


CoSL31: Tailored for Murder

by Dracophile



Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [31]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Jealousy, Killer clothing, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28530378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: Part 31 of the Casebook of Sloane Larson!Someone is murdered under unusual circumstances--by what appears to be living clothing! The gang has to figure out who's doing the fashionable fatalities before the body count keeps rising. Nick and Sloane meanwhile are too blind to see they want each other, much to the annoyance of their friends. Getting jealous won't help either of them! And to complicate things further, an old friend of Juliette's has shown up and wants to know where she is...Then, when Monroe's uncle comes across a stash of Grimm books, he's on the run! But there's more to that collection than meets the eye.Contains an original case and rewrites of Map of the Seven Knights and Key Move (Part one)
Relationships: Martin Meisner/Adalind Schade, Nick Burkhardt/Original Female Character(s), Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1061588
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	CoSL31: Tailored for Murder

**_“Strange to say, when she wanted to move to the right the shoes bore her to the left; and when she wished to dance up the room the shoes persisted in going down the room. Down the stairs they carried her at last, into the street, and out through the town gate. On and on she danced, for dance she must, straight out into the gloomy wood.”_ **

\----------------

**Tailored for Murder**

\----------------

Lydia Graham sighed as she headed out of the elevator and towards her apartment door. Her feet hurt from being in heels in court all day and she looked forward to unwinding with some wine and a hot bath.

“Oh, good Morning, Mrs. Graham.”

Lydia took a deep breath with her eyes closed, feeling her frayed patience close to snapping. “It’s evening, Mrs. Wright. And it’s Ms. Graham. I’m not married.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the older woman smiled, a little flustered at mixing up her times. Lydia hummed and tried to open her door quickly. “Oh, wait! You had a delivery today.”

She paused after opening the door and turned. “I did?”

“Yes. I brought it inside—we’ve had that string of people stealing packages lately. My daughter calls them porch pirates, but we don’t really have porches here, do we? Living in the apartments? So when I saw it, I thought ‘oh, I better keep this safe’—”

“I appreciate the thought, Mrs. Wright, but I’ve had a long day and would like to go sit down,” Lydia said impatiently.

The older woman flinched but smiled. “Oh, yes, of course. Big day in court, was it?” She knelt down and picked up a small package in brown paper, handing it to her. “Did you win?”

She smirked a bit, taking it. “I did indeed.”

“…So, they’ll be tearing down that rec center?” she asked, concerned.

“You mean the death trap? Yes.”

“It seems such a shame though…”

She glared, the tether snapping. “I’m sorry you disapprove, but the place was falling down and the lot was bot fair and square. There’s always losers and winners and it’s always a shame for someone but that’s life. Now excuse me while I go celebrate my victory on my own,” she said testily.

“I didn’t mean—”

Lydia was already inside and closing the door behind her and locking the two dead bolts she had installed. She sighed as she tossed her briefcase aside, hanged upper her winter coat, and then kicked off her shoes with a groan. Taking her hair down from the tight bun, she headed to the kitchen to pour herself that glass of wine, setting the package on the counter. As she took the first sip she noticed several messages on her answering machine. Pressing play, the automated voice rattled off the date and time before an angry, masculine voice came on.

“Lydia, you bitch! That rec center is all I have you can’t—” She sighed and pressed skip. “You think this is over?” the same voice said. “I’ll see you in court again, or in hell—” she skipped it again, rolling her eyes. “Put your client on a tighter leash, Darren,” she muttered, taking another sip of her wine. She noticed the package again and frowned, picking it up. It had no mail marks or anything, just her name written in the top left corner in fancy script. It felt soft as well so she wasn’t concerned it was dangerous. She’d gotten plenty of threatening notes and packages before. It came with being a lawyer that took on the richer clients trying to buy out the poorer areas. People called it gentrification, she called it progress. It came with making enemies who got creative, like putting actual feces in a package once. But this didn’t stink or feel like it would explode with glitter or otherwise so she used her finely manicured nails to open it.

From inside she pulled the most beautiful scarf she’d ever seen out. It was a pale silver, almost iridescent like mother of pearl. And soft as silk to the touch despite being thickly woven with animal fiber of some kind. She felt her annoyance and trepidation melt away as she held it between her hands. “Well! This is beautiful!” She glided it through her fingers before wrapping it around her neck. This must’ve cost a pretty penny. She looked at the package again, trying to find a tag or a card or anything. Nothing. Quirking a brow, she shrugged and left it on the counter. She poured another glass of wine and headed for her bedroom with a bath on her mind, petting the scarf as she went.

As she walked though, she felt a chill. Shivering, she brought the scarf more around her and looked at the thermostat by her bedroom door. She’d turned the heater on using the app on her phone to avoid the November chill but maybe it hadn’t come on. Except it said it was at 78 degrees like she set it and she could hear it kick on. Shrugging, she went into the room—only to stop when she felt like someone was tugging on her scarf. She looked around, confused. Then she felt it again—the scarf being pulled tighter. She tried to pull it back loose only for it to cinch even tighter, as though someone were pulling either end like a garotte. She gasped and dropped her glass of wine; fingers scrabbling to try and pull it away as her airway closed. But the scarf was almost fused to her skin with how tight it was becoming. She choked and gasped, crashing around as she fought it. But after a few moments her mind dimmed and her body grew weak. When she finally stopped moving and breathing, the scarf loosened. But she never drew in another breath.

From beyond the front door, the sound of someone walking up and whistling a jaunty little tune. The scarf then moved like a snake across the floor, slithering to the door and then under the threshold to a gloved hand waiting for it like a faithful pet. Rolling it up, the hand set it in its coat pocket and walked away. It had no idea someone had seen him, peaking from her door across the way…

\-------------

Sloane took a deep breath. It had been two weeks since breaking the curse. She was human all the time, she didn’t see phantom dead people everywhere, and she finally caught up on sleep and food. The only real change anyone would notice would be here hair, which she hadn’t redyed to her platinum blonde. It was dark brown with a white streak down the front and she sighed as she pulled it back over her forehead and from the right and to over her left ear.

“Nervous?” Nick asked.

“No…yeah,” she sighed. “I hate having to answer questions…I appreciate Renard covering for me, but this is going to be tough…”

“You usually moved on before a lot of questions were asked. But you’ll get through this, we’re right here.”

She smiled a little and nodded, heading in with him. She jumped when several cheers rang out, the station clapping.

“Welcome back, Larson!”

“Sloane! Good job!”

Others gave similar salutes and she smiled unsurely. “Uh…thank you?”

“Renard explained a bit about your case,” one officer said. “I’m impressed you stayed undercover for _six months_ with the guys who did that gas attack at Halloween _._ Wasn’t it hard?”

“…Very. Especially not being able to contact anyone back home,” she said honestly.

“Oh, that must’ve been awful…”

“The FBI needs to give you a commendation or something,” another said.

“Ah, well, I’m just glad it’s over and we got them…”

A few more questions were thrown about and Nick watched as Sloane managed to deflect them. “Glad she’s doing okay so far…”

“Hey, she waltzed in here like she was the captain that first day,” Hank smiled. “…So…you talk to her yet?”

“…I talk to her every day.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. About your _feelings,_ ” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Nick blushed and gave him a dour look. “No, and not here please!”

“Oh c’mon, you two already live together,” he said quietly. “How have you not mentioned it?”

Nick blushed, remembering nearly telling her when she fell asleep in his bed. And truthfully, she still sometimes came in to sleep in his bed—though she was getting better at feeling safe in her own room. That shouldn’t disappoint him he knew… “It’s not something you just blurt out.”

“Didn’t she already tell you she felt something though?”

He blushed more as he remembered the confession in the dream world. He honestly could still recall it word for word. He’d never been told something that emotional and deep before. But that was months ago, when he was still confused about Juliette being a hexenbiest and hopeful things would work out between them. Now that was a no go for several dozen reasons. And after Sloane disappeared, he’d wanted her back more and more. To the point when even finding out about “Eve” didn’t bring him relief—he just wanted to know where Sloane was. That was the moment he knew at least he didn’t have feelings for Juliette anymore.

“I don’t know if she still feels that way,” he said honestly. And that was the scary bit. That maybe he’d missed his chance. And that telling her now would ruin things forever. He’d had so much heartbreak and drama and anxiety the last year (or maybe two?) that he wasn’t sure he could take it.

Hank frowned sympathetically and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well…you won’t know if you don’t say anything.”

“And that’s easier said than…said…” He sighed and then straightened when Sloane walked over with a small bouquet of mixed flowers.

“I’m glad people are happy to see me, but I wasn’t expecting all that,” she sighed, setting them down on her desk.

“They’re just happy Renard is bringing in lunch for everyone to celebrate your return,” Hank said.

Sloane chuckled. “I don’t like to be center of attention…And everyone keeps asking about my hair!”

Nick patted her back sympathetically. He paused when Renard walked up behind them and Sloane turned. “Oh, hey Captain…”

Renard smiled knowingly and then handed them a paper with an address and apartment number. “Welcome back. Sorry you won’t get much of a day to catch up on everything because we got a case I think you three need to take. I’ll save your lunches for you.”

They looked at one another but nodded and rose. Sloane opened her drawer and then paused and sighed.

“Sloane?”

“…I forgot, Dierdre took my knife,” she said.

“…You miss it?”

“It was a part of me for a long time.” She pulled out her gun with a frown. “I’m still not fond of these but I don’t have much else to work with either on hand…” She strapped the holster on and checked it out before nodding to them.

Heading to their car, Nick got the feeling he was being watched. He shook it off, but then heard someone walking behind them in the garage and turned to look. He was surprised to see a woman following him, more so that he knew her. “Audrey? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t smile, instead narrowing her eyes with nerves. She was a Chinese-American woman, dressed in jeans and sneakers, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. “Nick…I want to talk to you.”

“Um…Now isn’t a great time, I’m just heading to a case,” he said.

“And what about the case you _should_ be working on?”

Nick blinked. “…What?”

“ _Juliette!_ ” she said, moving towards him. “Have you been looking for her at all?! It’s been _months_!”

Nick’s eyes widened. “I…I told you before, she left,” he said. He felt his heart hammering in his throat.

“And she hasn’t contacted anyone since she did,” she said. “She quit her job, she starts acting out, and then she just disappears?”

“That’s what happened,” he said, trying to stay calm. Sloane and Hank looked at one another and moved to stand with him.

“I bet,” she said, sneering.

“It is what happened,” Hank said. “And you shouldn’t be here. Police only.”

“That’s convenient. I guess that thin blue line is protecting you again?” she asked.

“What?”

“Did you do something to Juliette?” she asked, stepping towards him.

Nick’s jaw dropped. “I-what?! No!”

“Then where is she? Why would she just up and leave?”

“I…it’s complicated,” he said evasively.

“Why won’t she contact me? I’ve tried calling and her phone is down, I’ve tried emailing with no answer.”

“She wanted to start over!”

“Why? What did you do to her?”

“Hey!” Sloane barked, startling the woman. “What happened isn’t your business. Back. Off.”

Audrey bristled. “I’m Juliette’s friend!”

“So were we,” Hank said. “And we know Nick didn’t do anything to her. She’s going through some stuff, and who she contacts is her choice. Now I’ll say again: Leave. Before we let them know you snuck in here.” She glared but turned and stomped away back to the exit at the start of the garage. “Gonna have a talk with security about how she got in here…”

“Who was she?” Sloane asked.

“Audrey Zhao. She is…was one of Juliette’s friends. They went to vet school together and worked at the Roseway Veterinary Hospital. She contacted me shortly after Juliette first quit and I told her she was going through some things and just needed some time. Then again when she wasn’t answering her and I thought Juliette died. I didn’t know what to say so I told her the basic truth that she left me and I didn’t know where she was…Renard actually helped file a missing person’s report just to be safe after she first disappeared without even telling me. Trying to avoid what she’s doing now and assume the worst…”

“Yeesh,” Sloane sighed.

“Yeah…I’m going to have to figure out some way to handle this before I get accused of something really bad…” He shook his head. “Let’s head to the scene though. I’ll think on it later.” They nodded, heading to the car.

They drove to the scene of a swanky apartment building downtown. Getting to the sixth floor, they could see the crime tape from the elevator and headed down there. Wu waved them in and they quickly headed to him. “Hey! Glad the Three Amigos are back together.”

“Couldn’t we be musketeers?” Hank asked, quirking a brow.

“Nah, you give more of a Steve Martin vibe.”

Hank was debating if that was a compliment. Sloane blinked in confusion and Wu was about to suggest a movie night when Nick cut in. “What do we know so far?”

“Ah, right. Victim is Lydia Graham, 48. She is, or was, a very successful attorney. Usually for big companies and the like so she could afford this place easily.” They walked into the bedroom and winced when they found her on the ground, eyes still open, face pale and purpled. She’d have been pretty in life, with dark blonde hair and angular features. She had a large bruise around her neck that shouted strangulation, but nothing around to do the strangling. “Time of death is two days ago—she didn’t show up to work yesterday, which was unusual according to her coworkers. When she didn’t show up this morning they called to ask us to check on her. There was no answer but when the super tried to let us in he couldn’t get the door open. He let us break it down.” He pointed to the front door. “She had an extra deadbolt installed, against his knowledge, with no way to open it from the outside. Both were secured.”

“The lady was worried about something,” Hank said.

“She’s gotten threats in the past,” Wu said. “We have a few reports of threatening letters, phone calls, appearances and so forth from people angry they lost in court. None recently though.”

“Wait…both were secured?” Sloane asked, confused as she looked the broken door frame over.

“Yeah. Now we get to why this is in your territory,” Wu said quietly. “Front door locked in a way that only could be locked from the inside, on the sixth floor, and our vic has been strangled with no murder weapon immediately visible.”

“…Very Agatha Christie,” Sloane nodded. Nick glanced at her and she shrugged. “I found a collection in the trash and read it out in the woods. I liked it. Like it less when it happens in real life…”

“Yeah, it’s weird. But I don’t see the _weird_ part of it,” Nick said, holding up the three finger “w” sign they made up for wesen.

“Oh ye of little faith…for the rest of the weird, you need to talk to her neighbor, Mrs. Wright. She unfortunately came to see what was going on and saw the body before we could stop her. But she said some interesting things…”

They glanced at one another. “You two go, I’ll see what I can spot around here,” Hank said.

They nodded, heading across the hall. Mrs. Wright’s door was open and she was sitting with a blanket around her shoulders on the couch. Compared to the more modern look of Ms. Graham’s apartment, Mrs. Wright’s was more classic. Brocade couch, crocheted blanket, floral paintings and the like. She looked up when they walked in. “Mrs. Wright? I’m detective Burkhardt, this is my partner Detective Larson. We were told you had some information?”

She huffed, drawing the blanket closer. “You’ll think I’m crazy…or have dementia…”

“We just want to know what you think. You’re her neighbor, did you know her well?” Sloane asked.

“…Yes and no. She’s lived here for about 10 years now…I mean she did…” she sighed. “When she first moved in she was a very nice woman…But she was a lawyer taking tough cases. Had to deal with a lot of angry people. She got much more short-tempered as time went on. I tried to strike up conversation but she wasn’t never interested lately…”

“And what about two days ago?”

“…Lydia came home in the evening after winning a case. It was a bigger one, regarding the old Regal Recreation Center. She took me saying it was a shame to tear it down badly since that’s what her client wanted to do and she fought for. I really just meant it’s a shame that neighborhood would lose a safe place to hang out…It’s not a nice part of town but there’s good people there, I’m sure.”

“Okay, but did anything happen when she came home?”

“No, not exactly. You see, earlier a package was left for her. I saw it when I came back from walking down to the store. I like to walk there day to day, get out and get some fresh air and such. Bigger things I have delivered. Um, but I was saying there was a package. We’ve had several things stolen like that lately so I took it in. For safe keeping,” she added quickly.

“Do you know what it was?” Nick asked.

Mrs. Wright hesitated, looking away. “…Is it…technically tampering with the mail if it didn’t go through the mail?”

The glanced at one another then back at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it didn’t have an address or a stamp on it! I thought that was very strange. And last year she had someone leaving _awful_ things for her—vile things like dead mice and-and…poop.”

“That’s…gross,” Sloane said, grimacing with Nick.

“Yes! So I was worried. It didn’t’ smell or feel strange—it was only about this big,” she held up her hands about half a foot apart, “but I wanted to be sure so I very carefully opened it.”

“What was it then?” Nick asked, feeling apprehension.

“A scarf.”

“…A scarf?” the asked together.

“Yes. But I mean, it was a _beautiful_ scarf,” she sighed. “All silvery and soft. It must’ve cost a fortune!”

“Did you put it on?” Sloane asked.

“Oh, no! I mean, I was tempted, but then I heard the elevator. I thought it might be her so I quickly tied it back up in the brown paper it came in and went to give it to her.”

“Okay…but this doesn’t seem out of the ordinary,” Nick pointed out.

“That wasn’t…it’s what happened after. I convinced myself I imagined it truthfully…” she said, wringing her hands worriedly.

“What?”

“…It was a few moments after Lydia went inside. I felt bad I upset her so I was puttering around, trying to think what I could do to make her feel better. I thought about bringing her some cake. Then I heard someone out in the hall…whistling.”

“Whistling?”

“Yes. I actually thought it might be the Super. I was going to ask his help to put up a new shelf so I went to ask but when I opened the door…it wasn’t him. It was this very, very strange man. He was dressed in this garish paisley coat—pinks and aquas and greens! Even I found it hideous and I usually love paisley. And a strange little green hat. And he…”

“He what?”

“…He was whistling a little tune. I think it was… _The Hall of the Mountain King_ , strangely. There was something familiar about it. And he was…leaning down in front of Lydia’s door. I was going to ask him what he was doing when I saw…I saw that scarf snake out from under the door. Literally! It moved like a snake into his hands and he held it like people hold them, wrapped around his arm. Then it went limp again. He just rolled it up. I was so shocked—b-but then I quickly ducked back inside before he saw me. When I looked again he was gone. I figured I must’ve…imagined the whole thing and made some tea before bed.”

Nick and Sloane looked at one another, surprised. Nick quirked a brow and Sloane nodded slightly, though not entirely sure.

“I’m not crazy!” Mrs. Wright said vehemently.

“We don’t think you are,” Nick said, holding up his hands. “Was there anything else you saw?”

She sighed and shook her head. “No…I don’t understand why this happened though. She wasn’t an easy person to get along with, but she wasn’t evil…”

“Very few of the victims we encounter are, I’m afraid,” Sloane sighed.

Nick pulled his card out and handed it to her. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. Even if it seems strange or unreal, we’ve dealt with cases like that before.”

“…Thank you,” she sighed, taking it. “I know I’m getting a bit flighty in my older years…I thought no one would believe me.”

“We do,” Nick reiterated. They stood up. “We’ll let you rest though. You’re okay on your own?”

“Yes, thank you…I’m going to visit my daughter for a bit, till that’s all done if that’s okay.” She gestured at the crime scene with a haunted look.

“As long as you leave us information on how to contact you it’s fine,” he nodded. They walked back across the hall where Wu and Hank were looking around.

“Hey, she tell you what she saw?” Wu asked.

“Yeah.” Nick looked around and noticed brown appear and string left on the kitchen counter. He picked it up and bagged it with Wu.

“Wu said something about a living scarf?” Hank said quietly.

“Yep,” Sloane nodded, sighing.

“We believe her?”

“We do,” Sloane said. “But it gives us a new problem…”

“How so?” Nick asked.

“I know what did this…but the book for it was in _your_ collection.”

Nick eyebrows shot up and then he sighed as well. His collection was currently who knows where after Dierdre took off with his aunt’s trailer. “Great…”

“You remember it though?” Hank asked.

She looked around at the other crime techs. “…Later. Let’s go to the Spice Shop, Monroe and Rosalee might know something.”

\---------------------------

Adalind sighed, looking at the jar on the table. The liquid inside was clear like water, but it gave her a bad feeling just looking at it. “I gotta do it…Okay…Ugh…” she sighed. She looked at Diana, who was playing on the floor of the living room with a colorful cartoon on the TV in front of her. Not a care in the world while guilt and worry were warring inside her mother.

There was a knock at the door and walked up and looked out the peephole. She smiled a little and opened the door. “Meisner?”

He smiled. “Hello. Just doing a check in.”

“Right, come on in.” She stepped aside and he came in.

Diana looked up and smiled. “Meisy!”

Meisner blinked and looked at Adalind. “Meisy?”

She blushed, looking chagrinned but also amused. “‘Meisner’ is a little hard…”

“…Alright.” He smiled and knelt down. “And how are you, princess?” Diana grinned, showing off her baby teeth.

“She’s doing well,” Adalind smiled.

“Play with me!”

“She’s talking quite a bit now,” he smiled.

“She is. And walking is getting better too…Can I talk to you about something though?”

“Of course,” he said, standing.

“Play!”

Adalind smiled patiently and knelt down to kiss her forehead. “Give us just a bit sweety and then we’ll see about playing, okay?” Diana pouted and huffed but then nodded.

Meisner followed Adalind to the kitchen and she sighed. “Look…you talked before about me helping with Hadrian’s Wall and getting compensated for that. Nothing’s happened in weeks though and I just need to know if that’s still a thing.”

He sighed a bit and rubbed through his hair. “…I said that before we had…”

“Eve,” she supplied.

“Yes. And honestly, at the moment there’s not a lot to do that doesn’t involve covert operatives. And that I won’t suggest for you.” He looked at Diana and then back at her. “I admit, I hesitate to involve you further too. It’s dangerous, even when you’re in one place.”

She sighed and nodded. “I do appreciate that. But my savings are dwindling down. I need to get a job. So that’s the other thing I need to know how that will work with you and Susannah coming by…”

“Kelly will be here?”

“I’m trying to encourage her to go out and find other things to occupy her time,” she sighed. “I’m worried about her too. She’s healed up from what happened and doing alright as far as her eyesight being limited. But she wasn’t getting out of the house hardly. I finally convinced her to go for a walk today and figure out the neighborhood. She deserves to have a life now. So, I don’t want to always rely on her, she’s not my mother or a nanny…

Meisner sighed but nodded slowly. Then he smiled. “You’ve come a long way in the last year…”

She smiled wryly. “I’ve been through a lot in the last year…”

“That you have. Did you have a job in mind?”

“Well, my old Law Firm is wesen only so no woge, no go…”

“That’s right, you’re a lawyer,” he said thoughtfully.

“Mm hm. I specialized in contract law. Went along with my family’s specialty going back years. Binding spells and…curses,” she sighed.

“…I may have a contact at another law firm actually. It’s wesen friendly, but not wesen only.”

“Really?” she asked, hopeful.

“Yes, they recently set up an office here in Portland to go with others along the coast. They’re called Hoffman, Alfaro and Beske.”

“I’ve actually heard of them! They have a big network…”

“They’ve helped us in the past. I’ll let them know you’re interested if you can get your resume together. And that any gaps are…valid.”

She smiled. “That’d be great…You’re saving me again,” she laughed.

“I just want to help,” he smiled. He then looked to the living room and did a double take. “What…?”

Adalind quickly looked as well and felt her stomach drop when she saw Diana was levitating two of her dolls to do what the characters on the television were doing—some dancing and lots of spinning and twirls. “Diana, no!” she stood and quickly went to grab the toys, surprising her enough the violet glow in her eyes immediately dimmed.

“…I thought you suppressed her powers?” Meisner said, frowning deeply.

“…I…” She sighed and set the dolls down, picking Diana up. “I kept meaning to, I did, but…It’s not an easy thing to go through. It’s…When I did it, I had to have Nick and the others hold me down. And it feels like a part of me is being pulled down and away and shut in some place dark. Even if it’s not permanent, I…The thought of putting her through it,” she said, trying to hold back tears and rocking a very concerned Diana. “I couldn’t! Even thinking I could get someone else to do it, I couldn’t! I know she’s powerful and I know that makes her a target or dangerous but I can’t just do that to her—”

“Adalind, calm down,” he said, holding up his hands.

“You’re not taking her from me again,” she said determinedly. Diana looked at her and then at Meisner, clearing confused and worried.

Meisner took a deep breath. “You’re right, I’m not.”

She paused, swallowing and trying to breathe deeply enough to keep from crying. “You’re not?”

“No,” he said gently. “I’m not happy you lied this whole time though…”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I was just scared…”

He nodded. “I don’t blame you. I promise though, I’m not going to tell anyone. Well…I will tell Susannah,” he amended. “But neither of us will tell the higher ups. They were the ones so concerned about her and her powers. Truthfully, I think the less they know in this case the better,” he added. There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“…Thank you,” she sighed, relieved. Diana looked at Meisner with hose unreadable eyes again and he tried to smile. But it was hard to hide he had some reservations.

“You realize it’s not going to be easy. If she does that again in public, or when she goes to school, things could get complicated.”

“What part of my life isn’t complicated,” she said, laughing wryly.

He chuckled. “That’s fair…I’ll do what I can to help. Susannah will too I know, she’s become very fond of both of you.”

“The job will help a lot,” she said. “She’s usually good about things though. When we go to the park I remind her not to use her powers and she understands.”

“No power,” she said.

“That’s right, no power,” she said.

“Sorry…” she said.

Adalind was about to try and comfort her but Meisner stepped up and smiled. “It’s okay. But you need to remember, your magic is a secret. Only a few know about it. So unless your mother says it’s okay, you need to avoid using your magic around other people. Even if you know them. Do you understand?” She was quiet but then nodded. He smiled and patted her head. “I thought you might. You are a very smart girl.”

She smiled, giggling a little, and Adalind relaxed. “Thank you,” she sighed.

He smiled and nodded. “Now…We should play a game, right?”

“Play!”

\-----------------------

“A scarf?” Monroe asked.

“That’s what she said,” Wu nodded. They were sitting around the back table with tea mugs and explaining what they’d found at the scene. As they explained, they were helping to make little packets of spices for Rosalee since she needed a lot of them done. Her online store was getting popular and someone had given her the idea to do a $20 box of various spice packets to check out. She had not anticipated how popular they would be though—she needed almost 200 of them! It was a lesson in putting limits on things early. Sloane was doing bits of lavender, Nick was doing Lemon Balm, etc. “So, what kills people with a scarf?”

“Handwerksburschen (HAND-vairks-BOOR-shuhn)” Sloane said.

Monroe and Rosalee’s eyes widened and Monroe blew out a breath. “Shit, yeah, that could be it…”

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” Hank asked.

“Handwerksburschen. It means “craftsman” basically. But these are more insidious than your standard wood carver or leatherworker,” Sloane said.

“No kidding…” Monroe said.

“They’re famous for being able to make and fix _anything,_ ” Rosalee nodded.

“Like Eisbiebers?” Nick asked.

“Ha, no,” Monroe shook his head, both of them grimacing. “Eisbiebers are talented, but like, these guys can make almost anything that comes into their minds. Like if they wanted to make a scarf but never knitted before, they’d still be able to bang out the best scarf you’ve ever seen super quick.”

“And then curse it,” Rosalee sighed.

“Curse?” Nick asked.

“Yeah. Or enchant too, I mean, not all of them are bad…” Monroe said.

“But when their bad, they’re _bad_ ,” she sighed.

“I remember reading it. One of Nick’s ancestors went after one that made a pair of shoes that made a woman dance.”

“Oh, you would like that one,” Monroe said.

Sloane flicked one of her packets at him with expert aim and strong fingers and got him right between the eyes. He pouted at her as he rubbed the spot. “She danced _to death._ ”

“No way… _The Red Shoes?_ ” Monroe asked, surprised.

“You know the story?” Nick asked.

“Well, I know the Hans Christian Anderson version…and the 1948 movie with Moira Shearer. Classic. But also, the Dancing Plague of 1518…I thought that was the inspiration.”

“It was, I’ve heard of that one from a friend. A bunch of cursed clothing started that plague one and they kept dancing till they died from exhaustion. But the red shoes themselves had a story in Nick’s book.” Sloane sighed. “The shoes weren’t red to start with according to the story. She was an aspiring ballerina who turned down a wealthy suitor because she wanted to keep dancing. He then paid a Handwerksburschen to make a pair of shoes, the best ballet shoes possible, but curse them. When she put them on to start breaking them in, they kept her dancing till her feet started to bleed. He didn’t intend for that, he just wanted her to hate dancing. He tried to save her but when he tried to remove the shoes they tightened hard enough to crush her bones and cut her legs and she bled out…”

“God,” Hank grimaced.

“Yeah. I remember the gist of the story, but the Grimm didn’t manage to catch the culprit. Couldn’t really pin it on the suitor either. It had a picture of the Handwerksburschen. Little Goblin like creature.”

“Like a Fuchsteufelwild?” Nick asked, remembering Trinket Lipslums killing the game developers a couple of years ago before Sloane had even arrived. He’d told her about it before.

“Similar also—I think they’re probably related. But more.…hold on.” She stood, going to the writing desk nearby and grabbing a bit of paper and a pen. Sitting down, she quickly began sketching.

“Wait, you saw this like at least a year ago and you remember I enough to sketch it?” Hank asked.

“Yeah?” she asked, not looking up as she kept scratching quick lines.

“…Grimms are scary,” Monroe muttered.

Sloane rolled her eyes and held up the picture when she was done. The sketch was of creature with a round head, a huge, sharp-toothed smile taking up the majority of his face. His nose was upturned, flat and with a divot down the middle. His ears were almost as large as his face itself and fanned out on either side. “It’s pretty generic as far as a sketch goes, your ancestor probably didn’t get a good look or it was done fast. But it was like this.”

“Yeah…I remember seeing this guy too. You got it almost exact, I think,” Hank said.

“That’s pretty amazing,” Nick smiled, looking at it with a smile.

Sloane blushed a bit and smiled. “Okay, okay, I appreciate all the compliments but back to this. What do you guys know about them?”

“Not a lot more than you to be honest,” Rosalee sighed. “They’re pretty reclusive.”

“Mainly because other wesen don’t trust them either,” Monroe said. “I do know they are super prideful. Like, you insult them, you might find yourself with some literal killer accessories. Has your victim insulted anyone recently?”

“She was a corporate lawyer for a land developer,” Hank said flatly.

“Ah, so that’s gonna be a large pool of possibilities…” he grimaced.

“We’re waiting on a list of them so we can go question them,” Nick nodded. “We have several threatening messages on her answering machine…Most seem to be regarding a recreation center.”

“Recreation Center…Hey, I wonder if it’s the Regal,” Monroe said, closing up his box of packets after finishing.

“The Regal? Yeah…our one sort of witness mentioned that,” Sloane nodded.

“What is it?” Wu asked.

“It’s in Hazelwood,” he said. “Nice place, or it used to be before time and budget cuts. It was bought up in a land development project. To be bulldozed and make way for I think a bunch of condos?”

“Yeah. I heard about it from a friend who lives there,” Rosalee said. “The Regal is one of the few safe places around for kids and the like, so they were pretty up in arms about it. One brother sold the majority, but the other that had a minority in the land was trying to stop it.”

“Sold to who?” Hank asked.

“Oh, one of those development companies that like to take the charm out of old neighborhoods under the guise of “fixing it up”,” Rosalee sneered. She pulled out her phone and quickly searched it up. “Let’s see, they’re called…Crown and Country.”

“Wow, that’s a name,” Sloane said.

“Yeah. They love this ‘buy up old properties under the tenants’ noses, renovate them cheap and then sell them high’ strategy. It’s a real shame honestly how many people lose homes or work to it…”

“Gentrification, man,” Monroe shook his head.

“I’m honestly scared it’ll come this way soon,” she said, looking at the shop with a touch of worry and protectiveness.

“Like we’d let that happen,” Nick said.

“Plus, you own the shop entirely, right?” Sloane asked.

“Yes—it went back to mom when Freddy died and she signed all of it over to me as a wedding present. But they make things hard for people sometimes…”

Sloane remembered when a group of wesen developers went to her hometown of Wildred a few years ago and tried to take over by buying or muscling out the locals—and turning to “mysterious deaths” when that didn’t work. “…I know the type. But this seems a bit different, considering it’s the high-priced lawyer getting killed.”

“According to this, Gerald Wilks was the one filing the suit. He didn’t want to be bought out after his brother sold the recreation center. He…Oh.” She looked up. “He was part owner and teaches a tailoring class at the Regal…”

They looked at one another. “Well…I think we just found our number one suspect,” Hank said.

“I’ll go run his information,” Wu said, copying down the notes.

“I’ll ask around too,” Monroe said. “Maybe someone else knows more.”

They nodded in thanks, finishing up the boxes of spices and handing them off to Rosalee.

\---------------------

Renard walked up to the door of the house and knocked. It’d been a long day but he was looking forward to seeing Diana—he made it a point to try and visit at least three times a week. He hoped when she was a little older and he had a more suitable house she could come stay with him. _Maybe Adalind, too…I know she was hesitant, but it would be the best option._

He was surprised when a man opened the door, but not just any man. “Meisner?”

“Sean. Good to see you,” he said.

“…Nice boa.”

Meisner smiled and threw one end of the bright pink feathered boa around his shoulders. It was amazing how much confidence he could exude. “Brings out my eyes, I’m told.” He stood aside so Renard could step in.

“Sean! Sorry, we lost track of time,” Adalind sighed, putting away the remains of a tea party it looked like. Kelly was sitting at the table as well and waved. It was bizarre to see her wearing a bright red hat a little too small for her, but he didn’t say anything.

“No problem, really.” He looked at Meisner. “I didn’t know you were the tea party type.”

“I am a man of many skills.” He walked over and tickled Diana with one end of the boa, making her giggle and bat at it. Adalind smiled as he did. “Your daughter is very convincing as well.”

“Indeed…” he said, feeling a little twinge of something in him.

Meisner took the boa off and draped over Kelly. “You’re lucky she likes you,” Kelly responded with a sigh.

“I should let you all have family time though. I’ll check in again another day. And I’ll let Susannah know about…”

Adalind nodded, not needing to be reminded about the secret he shared. “Thank you.”

Meisner nodded with a smile. “Goodnight then. And goodnight, princess.”

She pouted as he headed for the door but Renard walked over to pick her up. “Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight…” she said.

Meisner smiled and waved before heading out the door.

“Would you mind if we ordered out?” Adalind sighed. “I forgot to set anything out…Diana’s happy with chicken nuggets but I’d like something a bit more substantial.”

“That’s fine…Was Meisner here all day?”

“Uh…pretty much, yeah,” she nodded, putting the toys into the nearby chest.

Kelly stood, putting the hat and he boa inside as well. “I’ll go take Diana to wash up.”

Renard nodded, handing her to her when she came up. “I can feel the tension from you, talk it out,” Kelly muttered. Renard watched her go down the hall and quirked a brow.

He looked at Adalind as she finished putting everything away. “…Why was Meisner here all day? Was there a problem?”

“No, but Diana wanted to play and he was happy to agree. Kelly went out part of the day and she insisted on a tea party with all of us when she got home. And, uh…”

“Uh what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“…He found out I…hadn’t given Diana the suppressant,” she admitted.

“You what?” he asked, surprised.

“I just couldn’t,” she groaned.

“Adalind, what if they take her away?” he asked urgently, quietly so that Diana wouldn’t get upset.

“Meisner said he’s not going to report it,” she whispered back. “Neither would Susannah.”

“And you trust them that much?”

“Well let’s see—one got me out from under the royals before they took Diana away from me, and helped me give birth, and the other got me away from another psycho royal before he offered me as a sacrifice to another Hexenbiest. So yes, I do trust them!”

“…Omitting a few details there.”

She glared. “I’m well aware of how I got into those situations. You don’t need to rub my nose in them.”

He sighed, pinching between his eyes. “I didn’t—”

“You absolutely did, don’t even try that,” she said.

He bristled a moment but could hear Kelly and Diana down the hall. He didn’t want to start an argument, really. “…I’m sorry,” he amended.

Adalind was a little surprised but eased back. “…I didn’t want to put Diana through the suppressant. It’s too much for someone her age. Meisner understood when I told him and said he’d keep it a secret.”

Renard nodded. “Okay…I trust you too. I’m just worried.”

“So was I,” she smiled a little.

“…How long do you need to be under observation?”

She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I’m hoping not forever.”

“Well, Sloane’s back now. If you want…I could find a place we could all move into, together.”

Adalind frowned. “Sloane’s already said we can stay as long as we need. We’re going to work something out. Meisner got me a contact with different legal office here in Portland, so I’m hoping to get a job.”

“What about Diana then?”

“Kelly can watch her during the day, we discussed it when she got home. We’re working on teaching her time and place with her powers so hopefully she can go to daycare in another year or two.” Renard frowned and she quirked a brow back. “What’s wrong?”

“…Do you ever think…we should give things another shot? Be a real family?”

Adalind balked a little. “‘Real’? Sean…neither of us had a ‘real’ family, let’s be real. My dad went MIA, yours…”

“To be fair, it was mostly his wife and sons that tried to have me killed,” he sighed. “But that’s what I mean. I want to be a better father. I want to be in Diana’s life!”

“You are,” she said. “I’m not going to deny you that, so long as it’s safe for you both. But…” She sighed pacing a little. “Sean, I don’t think we’re good for each other. Romantically. I mean, I loved you a lot when I was younger. You were my first crush, and I was really happy when you’d even pay attention to me. I was willing to kill people for you.” She glanced where Kelly was down the hall. She knew she’d tried to kill her sister, but Adalind tried not to remind her just in case. “Almost did, several times…”

“I’m trying to do better,” he said.

“I know. And so am I. Part of having Diana was realizing that I’d been acting like a kid a lot and that I needed to grow up. Part of that was asking myself if I still had a crush on you…and I don’t. Too much happened.”

“You aren’t going to forgive me?” he asked with a pinched brow.

“It’s not about forgiving you; it’s about forgiving myself. But what you put me through is only half of it. Do I need to remind you that you slept with my mother?”

He flinched and looked away. “…I am sorry for that…”

“I know. Don’t get me wrong, I know she had a hand in “Mrs. Robinson”-ing you, but it’s always been a sticking point for me. Taking Diana from me still hurts, even though I know why. I just…we always seem to hurt each other somehow. But I’m usually the one left holding the pain for longer it feels and doing something stupid. I just feel like maybe we should just…be parents. Hopefully friends too. But I think by now we’ve killed the romantic vibe pretty thoroughly…and I don’t want to stay together for Diana. I feel like that’s a bad example for her if things go south _again._ ”

He sighed and finally nodded. “Okay…You make a good point. But if you do need me, ask. I do want to be friends. For our sake as well as Diana’s…”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay…so, what should we get delivered for dinner?”

He smiled back. “How about Thai?”

“Oh, that sounds good,” she nodded, heading for the menus in the kitchen.

Kelly came down the hall then with Diana. She set her down in her highchair. “I’ll take some pad-see-ew with beef. And I’ll get Diana’s dinner started.”

“Thank you,” Adalind called, looking through the menus still.

Kelly paused and looked at Renard. “…You slept with Catharine Schade?” she asked quietly, slightly judging.

Renard grimaced and looked away. “I…was not a good man for a while.”

“Hm. I’m aware. I hope you’re doing better.”

“Trying,” he said honestly. “I’ve learned a lot the last few years.”

“Good boy,” she smiled. “Because even half blind, I think I can take you out if you cause more problems.” She headed to get the chicken nuggets started. Renard had a feeling she was right.

\------------------------------

“I’m not sorry she’s dead, but it’s nothing to do with me,” Mr. Wilks said. They’d tracked him down to the Regal Recreation Center that evening after doing a bit more background work. It was an older building, built first in the forties and renovated and bolstered over the years to keep it going. But its last renovation was at least two decades ago and it was starting to show its age and that the staff wasn’t available to keep it looking it’s best. Cracked concrete, discolored floor tiles, and water-stained fiber glass ceiling tiles. Still it was bustling with activity as people did classes and brought their children and families to use local facilities.

Gerald Wilks was working on a suit on a dressmaker’s dummy. He was an older man, with a flamboyant air about him in how he styled himself in fashionable but homemade clothes in grays and blues and smoothed back silver hair. He was dramatically sewing one of the darts in the suit’s lining as they spoke.

“You did threaten her,” Hank pointed out.

“I spoke in anger! I wasn’t actually going to kill her,” he said. “I’m not proud of how I spoke to her, but she had the ability to get that response out of a lot of people I think you’ll find.”

“But you’re the most recent to leave threatening messages on her machine,” Nick pointed out.

He sighed and snipped the thread dramatically. “Look, this rec center was started by my father. I learned how to sew here when my mother taught the classes. When I retired from being a tailor, in one of the best shops in Portland, I started classes here and I do my best to help make sure the community around here can have the skills to make their clothes go a long way and be extra presentable. I’ve helped a lot of them get jobs and I’m damn proud. And then my brother decides to sell up and Crown and Country tries to force me out and the judge agreed with them because she presented a bunch of photos of “health and safety violations” I was trying to get fixed already but my permits were mysteriously blocked! So I got angry.”

“You think she blocked your permits?” Sloane asked.

“Her or that damn company,” he sighed. “I think they put a squeeze on my brother too…”

“Can we talk to him too?”

“He’s not here. I mean not in Portland, he moved to Seattle to be close to his daughter. I probably will too once my lease is up…The pot’s run dry, so to speak. I don’t have anything left to fight with, money or energy wise.”

“That’s not what your message said,” Sloane pointed out.

“You say a lot of things when angry that may not be possible,” he said wryly. “Ms. Graham was only one bullet in an arsenal on their side and I don’t even have a slingshot.” He looked around wistfully. “It was lovely when it was first built…My parents were very proud and worked here up till they died. I’d hoped it last a hundred years but I guess it’s not meant to be…”

“We are sorry to hear that,” Nick said sympathetically. 

“Thank you…but really, I didn’t even know she was dead till you showed up so I can’t help you.”

“…Do you know how to knit?” Sloane asked.

“Knit? Well, I dabbled a bit years ago, but I didn’t really enjoy it. I prefer sewing more. Why?”

“We believe someone sent her a gift before she died, a scarf according to her neighbor. But it’s missing.”

“Oh believe me, I would not be sending that woman gifts! Besides, I only know her phone number, not her address.”

“How’d you get that anyway?” Hank asked.

Gerald hesitated before sighing. “I peeked at my own lawyer’s contact list, alright! I’m not proud…He was not happy either.”

“No I wasn’t.” They looked up as a younger man with sandy blonde hair walked in. “And I’m not happy you didn’t call me right when the police showed up, Gerald.”

“Oh come now, Darren, no one can believe I would do that, right?” he laughed. The laughter died down when he saw the detectives weren’t even smiling.

“We’re not ready to make any judgements,” Hank said. “And you are…?”

“Darren. Darren Schuler. He was doing this case pro-bono for me as a former student.”

“ _And_ I’m still his lawyer. I’d like to ask if you intend to bring him in for any further questioning and if I need to be present.”

Nick sighed but Sloane held up a hand. “It’s too early to tell yet. We just need to make contact with as many people as we can who had been in contact with Lydia Graham recently.”

“…Are three detectives normal?” he asked.

“We’re a special group,” she smiled. “Is a Real Estate lawyer talking about criminal defense normal?”

He blinked but then smiled. “Okay, you have me there…”

“Darren’s just a bit protective,” Gerald said, smiling.

“Hey, I practically grew up here too. Spent a lot of time in this room. And my request still stands, I’d prefer any more questioning be with me present.”

“Well, we’d like to talk to you too,” Nick said.

“That’s fine.”

“Oh really, Darren is a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Gerald said.

“We have to be thorough.”

“…You know, you all have a wonderful physique. My friend teaches the life drawing class here and at another center, would you be interested in modeling some time? It would be in the nude…”

Darren looked at him, his expression souring. “Gerald…”

“Ah…no thank you,” Hank said. Nick and Sloane glanced at one another then away.

“Pity,” he said. “Oh, you might check out Mr. Ulric too.”

“Ulric?

“Jensen Ulric. Crown and Country’s local representative,” Darren said.

“Why would he kill the lawyer that won him a case?” Sloane asked.

“Well…you didn’t hear it from me, but he and her had a big argument that last day in court. Darren and I heard them vaguely, that’s how loud they were.”

“Gerald,” Darren sighed again. “You’re gossiping again.”

“Well I can’t help it! It was strange, wasn’t it?”

“What were they arguing about? The case?” Sloane asked.

He shook his head. “No, not ours at least I think. Something about a contract…That’s all we could hear.”

“But it was a bad row and put Ms. Graham in a very bad mood despite her win,” Gerald added. “She didn’t even gloat and I know she loves to gloat…”

“We’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Hank said.

“Good. Now it’s getting late and Gerald needs to start packing up. If it’s okay, I’m happy to meet with you tomorrow afternoon—I have to be in court again soon regarding another case,” Darren said.

“Alright. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” Nick said.

They walked out and Darren turned to look at Gerald. “Why would you talk to them alone?”

“Because I don’t have anything to hide! I didn’t kill that woman, no matter how tempting.”

“Gerald, murder isn’t the only crime in the books,” he hissed. “Or did you forget what I promised to keep quiet about?”

“…No, I didn’t forget,” he said, looking down.

“Then don’t talk to them alone anymore. Unless you want to lose your reputation along with the rec center.”

“…How did you know they were here?” he asked.

“I didn’t. I came to tell you about Lydia and to keep your head down. So please do that in the future before it gets cut off!” Gerald flinched at the angry tone and sighed.

The detectives didn’t hear this faint conversation as they headed out of the rec center and Hank sighed when he looked at the setting sun. “You guys want to pick this up tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that might be best,” Nick said. “We got more suspects than answers right now.”

“That’s how it usually is. Feels like old times,” Sloane smiled.

He smiled back and they returned to the precinct to get their respective cars and head home.

Once home, Sloane set her boots by the elevator and so did Nick, and they both had a hook on the wall for their jackets. Sloane walked to the fridge and looked in. “I set out salmon for dinner. Figured I do that white wine sauce again but with more red pepper this time. Sound good?”

“Sounds great. I can do the asparagus to go with them—don’t want it going off again,” he said, opening the vegetable crisper after she grabbed the fish.

“Ugh, that was gross,” she grimaced, remembering finding the rotting stocks when she first moved in. She’d hallucinated they were centipedes and Nick had nearly had a heart attack when she screamed. Apparently she was not a fan. Nick had been eating out more after his mother moved out and forgotten about them. He chuckled as she started getting things together, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail to keep it out of the food. “I think we have some garlic bread too,” she said.

“Uh, let’s see…” He opened the freezer and pulled out the box. “Yep, two each. I’ll put them in the oven with the asparagus.”

“Good, I’m hungry,” she sighed. They started working together, having gotten fairly good at cooking together the last few months. Nick smiled to himself at how domestic it felt. How natural it felt.

 _Would it be weird to tell her now? I mean, does it have to be all big and dramatic? Granted she told me in a grand dramatic fashion, kind of…how would I measure up to that?_ He frowned at the thought. Just telling her cooking dinner seemed pretty lack-luster compared to the speech she gave him in the dream. Telling him he made her a better person, that she wanted to share the good and the bad with him…he knew now he wanted the same, but it felt like copying her to say it back. That it wouldn’t seem like it came from himself to do so. But how did he put it into other words?

“Nick?”

He jumped and looked up. “Uh, yeah?”

“I was asking if you wanted to watch a movie…You okay?” she asked, frowning in concern.

He smiled quickly and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, really, just…thinking. About the case.”

“Any epiphanies?” She asked, turning the salmon over in the pan and putting the lid back on.

“No…But a movie sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll finish up if you want to go pick one.”

He nodded, since the asparagus was in the oven with the bread, and went to go pull up a movie. He considered something romantic but felt that might be too obvious. So he opted for an action movie and scrolled through them. Sloane plated the food and brought it out to him. “Thanks…Ever seen _Die Hard_?”

“Uh…Not all the way through and only in Japanese.” He quirked a brow and she smiled. “It was on TV in Japan one time. I saw like twenty minutes in the middle before I had to leave on a hunt. But I’m down to give it a try.”

He smiled and hit play. It ended up she enjoyed it a lot and Nick had gotten his arm around her shoulders at one point before either of them noticed when he pulled up the second one for the heck of it.

\----------------------

Gerald sighed as he closed up the rec center later that night, a box under his arms. He put the keys in his pocket and turned to go, but gasped when he turned to see a man behind him. “Rodney! What the hell?”

“Hey Gerry,” his brother said. He was very similar to Gerald, with the same nose and silvering hair, though a little bit younger.

“Well, you chose a good time to show up,” he huffed, stepping down. “Did you finally get sentimental?”

“Oh don’t get dramatic, Gerry,” he sighed. “I did what I had to do. I had bills to pay.”

“Debts you mean. Same as me.”

“Gerry, don’t start. Besides, why would I be sentimental for this place?” He looked at it with a faint air of disgust.

“Rodney,” he warned.

Rodney just sighed. “Look, I didn’t come to argue.”

He sighed back, shifting the box around. “Yes, fine. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. You weren’t home, so I figured you were here.”

“Well, I’ll be here most nights trying to save what I can,” he said.

“Need help?”

“I thought you didn’t want to set foot in there again?”

He looked at it again. “I really don’t…How can you stand it? I mean, after what happened…”

Gerald’s hands tightened on the box. “It was an accident…”

“Not that,” he sighed. “Well, yes that, but just… all of it.”

“What do you mean?” Gerald asked, frowning.

He groaned. “You aren’t stupid, Gerry. You know why I hate it here. You know dad wasn’t a paragon of the community.”

“He was a good man!”

“He locked me in the storage room!”

“He was trying to cure your fear of the dark!”

“He was an abusive bastard who traumatized more kids than he helped,” he hissed. “But then, again, what can you expect from the _favorite._ The one who could do everything. Well…till he found out about that _accident._ Guess he finally saw himself in us, huh?”

He took a deep breath, rolling his neck a little to try and keep from getting tense. “Rodney, I’m already not in a great mood. I had to deal with the police today on top of everything else—”

“The police?” he asked, tensing. “Why were they here?”

“Ah, you probably didn’t hear. Lydia Graham was murdered, that lawyer for Crown and Country.”

His eyes widened. “She what?”

“Yes. They’re looking at any possible enemies, and I guess I ended up on the list. Somehow,” he said evasively.

“…Did they ask about me?”

“You? Why would they ask about you?” he asked, annoyed that he was still thinking of himself.

He frowned back. “God, you sound like dad now too…Especially all this “accident” talk. Held that over our heads till the day he died.”

“I don’t want to talk about that, Rodney,” he said, breathing hard.

“Why not? It’s been twenty years…you still feel responsible?”

“I told them, the police, you’d sold,” he said, dodging that question. “And that you’d moved back to Seattle to be with your daughter—I thought you were at least.”

“Yeah, well…she didn’t want to see me,” he sighed. “I thought maybe we could cry on each other’s shoulders.”

Gerald huffed and rolled his eyes. “I may be a little flamboyant but I’m not some blubbering mess.”

He frowned. “Oh, forgive me. I forgot “Wilks don’t weep”.”

“Shut up,” he growled.

“What, don’t like dad’s motto?” he said snidely. He looked at the box and chuckled. “Oh, that’s a nice belt!” He reached up and took a black leather belt from the box. The buckle was fashioned to look like a gargoyle’s head. Gerald glared, this being a common occurrence. He had something and his brother had to get his hands on it.

“Honestly, can’t you keep your hands to yourself,” he sighed. “One of my students made that, be careful.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a belt,” he said.

Gerald felt something in him, some tightly wound bit of thread, snap. “Right…Just a belt. Just a jacket. Just a car, and a shop, and a job, and our father’s life’s work. Just an _accident_. It’s all “just” with you, because you don’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but yourself!”

Rodney looked honestly hurt and glared as he got in his brother’s face. “Yeah? Well, who’s idea was it, hm? “He’s so sad, let’s help him practice. Darren said he’ll bring him.””

“It was an _accident,_ ” he said vehemently.

“Who unlocked the pool? Forgot to lock the pool back up?”

“You know what you did,” he spat. “Don’t you pin it on me!”

“Yeah. I did the same thing our dad would’ve done. And you’re just as guilty as the rest of us.”

Gerald shoved him away. “Shut up! You know what? I don’t care about you anymore. You’ve taken everything else from me, take the damn belt too! A parting gift, so don’t come looking for me again!” He stormed down the steps and towards the parking lot and to his car.

Rodney looked after him and screwed up his face before huffing. He pulled out his own set of keys then and unlocked the door to the rec center, going inside. “Drama queen…what was I supposed to do, huh? Blames me for everything, as usual,” he muttered. He paused and looked around, sighing. Going to the wall of photos, he looked at the one from the day the rec center was built. Their father, Gerald at about age five, him just a baby in their mother’s arms. Their father wanted a place people could go to, to learn new skills and play and get help. To feel like a community. That’s what he said anyway. But Rodney knew it was just another way to try and control people. Glaring, he put his finger under the frame and popped it off the wall, not caring when it fell and shattered. He did it to a few more—listening to them shatter on the floor like then paused when he got to one of a young, freckled boy with a big smile and red hair. _In Loving Memory of David Keeler_ was engraved on a small plate on the frame. Next to him in the frame was a piece of blue cloth with lighter and darker pieces appliqued onto it, and a wavy stitch going all the way up. It was about the size of a bookmark and had _DK the Ultimate Swimmer_ embroidered on it.

Sighing, he pulled a flask out of his jacket and took a swig, leaving the rest of the photos untouched. He walked around a bit, taking sips as he did, sometimes twirling the belt around. He paused when he heard someone moving further down the hall. He quickly hid the flask after swallowing what was in his mouth. “Hello? Gerry?” No answer. He walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door to the tailoring classroom. Trying the handle, he found it was unlocked and stepped in. He could see all of the things Gerald and his class were working on—dresses, suits, even a tuxedo it looked like. He had photos up too of all the classes he’d done over the years.

“…Stupid jerk. Why’d you have to stay here…Why can’t you just forget?” he sighed. He looked at the suit stand, recognizing Gerald’s work, and smacked it to fall back like a man getting cold-cocked. It was petty he knew but he was feeling petty and bitter. “Could tear this whole place up…see how he feels about that.” He sighed and sat down in a chair, tossing the belt on the table. It really was kind of stupid looking and not Gerald’s style at all. Looking around, he noticed a pair of shoes on the worktable and blink. “You making shoes now, Gerry?” he muttered. He reached over and grabbed them up. They were very expensive looking shoes. Brown shiny leather, suede laces, all that. Definitely Gerald’s sort of shoe, considering how posh he liked to dress. Rodney eyed them then lifted his foot up and measured them against his current shoes. They looked the right size. Shrugging, he undid his sneakers and slipped them on. They were a perfect fit. He smiled a bit, clicking his heals. “Hm…maybe I should take something of yours. Maybe you’d sit and talk properly if I some of your precious wardrobe hostage,” he sneered.

He pulled out the flask to take a sip again, but paused when he heard something. It sounded like whistling—a familiar tune. He couldn’t put a name to the tune, but it was familiar. And a little eerie as it echoed into the room. “Hello?” He called. The whistling stopped. He stood to his feet—then gasped as he was pulled forward. He caught himself on the chair before he went down, shaken. The flask clattered to the floor and he blinked in confusion. “What the hell…? How drunk am I?” He shrieked when one of his legs swinged upwards out of his control. It moved down and forced his body to comply and pull him up right, sending the chair clattering over when he tried to grab on to it and failed. “W-what the—” His legs began moving on their own, stepping out of the door. He grabbed ahold of the door frame, trying to keep from moving, panicking as his feet kept trying to move with a mind of their own. He couldn’t hold on despite digging his fingers in and his legs moved him down the hall with a scream at a full tilt run.

\---------------------------------

“One of the cleaning crew found him this morning,” Wu said, leading them inside to the main hall of the Regal Recreation Center the next morning. In the center, over the crown logo set into the tile floor, was the body of a man who had apparently leapt from the second story. Headfirst by the look of things. “This is Rodney Wilks. Gerald Wilks’ brother who was supposedly in Seattle.”

“What’s he doing back here? I mean in Portland, I see what he’s…doing back here,” Sloane said, grimacing at state of him. He’d broken his neck on impact obviously, given the angle his head was resting at. The man’s last expression was one of terror. A few cuts came from a mess of broken glass around him from several broken photos.

“Not sure. When I was doing research on the center though, I did find out he had to use a lot of his money from Crown and Country to pay off some loans. He didn’t even actually own his house here in Portland, so that might be part of why he moved.”

“Good to know…” He looked at the broken glass. And frowned, leaning down to carefully lift one of his arms. “…This glass was already on the floor when he fell. The photos must’ve already been broken.”

“Why though?” Hank said. He looked at the wall of photos and frowned when he walked up. “A bunch of them were pulled down. But this one was left alone in the middle of them,” he said, pointing at the picture of the young boy. ““ _In Loving Memory of David Keller._ ”” He took a picture with his phone, figuring it might lead somewhere. The blue tab of cloth with stitches all over it was a bit odd, not something he’d ever seen before.

“I wonder who that is,” Sloane said.

“I’ll find out later. Do we have any security?”

“They had to scale back recently,” Wu sighed. He pointed up to an older looking camera. “We’ve got one on the foyer here, and one on the back entrance, but none in the hallways or rooms. I’m already copying what we do have.”

The nodded in thanks. “Where’s Gerald?” Nick asked.

“We’re working to get in contact with him. He’s not answering though,” Wu said, looking suspicious.

“The lawyer that won the case and the brother that sold him out…” Hank nodded.

“But this looks like a suicide,” Wu added. “I mean, there’s no way he could’ve fallen accidently, that railing up there is almost chest high…”

Sloane looked at the wide eyes again and felt doubt about that. “…Where’s his shoes?” Sloane asked, looking at the black socks on his feet.

The others looked as well and then up to the second story. “We didn’t find them up there…” Wu said.

“Someone took his shoes?” Hank said.

“The custodian called us as soon as he saw him through the windows, didn’t even open the doors,” Wu said.

“…I want to see Gerald’s workshop,” Sloane said.

They nodded, heading down to where they’d met him yesterday. The door was wide open they noticed. She moved to go in first but paused and stepped back, looking at the door frame. “…Hey, Wu? Can you have them check for paint and wood under his nails?”

“Paint and wood?”

Sloane reached a gloved hand up and ran a finger under the gauges in the wood. Spaced like fingers trying to hold on.

“Oh, that’s creepy,” Hank said.

“So’s this,” Nick said, pointing at a pair of sneakers near an overturned chair. “Given how the other Mr. Wilk’s likes to dress, I don’t think these are Gerald’s…” Wu took a picture of where they were found with some markers, then put them in a bag out. They looked around while he did, noting the overturned mannequin and chair.

“So, do we think he just decided to take his shoes off and go walking in socks through the building with the heat off in November?” Hank asked. All of them looked doubtful.

“Have forensics look over this room too,” Nick said.

“Will do.” They walked out and Nick slowed as they headed down the hall. He heard something very faintly so he opened up his hearing and further. Footsteps were coming from down the hall, but all of their team should be back at the entrance.

“Nick?” Hank asked. Nick put a finger to his lips and moved towards the sound. Sloane followed and so do the others. As he rounded the corner, he paused and his jaw hanged open. Down the hall was a pair patent leather shoes, walking sedately down with no feet or body moving them.

“Holy crap,” Sloane muttered. The others were peaking around the corner, looking shocked.

“Those…shoes are moving on their own,” Wu said.

“…I think we found a murder weapon,” Nick said.

The shoes stopped and then one turned. When it saw them, they took off at a run. Nick took off after them, Sloane close behind. “Don’t let them get to the entrance!”

“Yeah, that’d be a lot of awkward explanations!” Wu agreed. The shoes turned a corner, trying to get away from them, surprisingly fast without a body to slow them down. Sloane managed to catch up first and made a grab for them, only to yelp when they kicked back and got her in the face with a heel.

“Sloane?” Nick asked, sliding to a halt.

“I’m fine, get them!” she ordered, holding a hand to her eye.

He took off again, Hank right next to him. They tried grabbing a shoe each, but it was like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands. Doable, but not easy if you weren’t perfectly precise in how much pressure to exert. They were just rounding the corner that would lead to the front hall when Wu came down on top of them with a sheet of cloth. He’d gone back to the tailoring room and grabbed the first wide bit of cloth he could find. The shoes struggled, trying to get out, and he wrestled them until he tied them up in the case like a rucksack.

“Good job, Wu!” Hank said, smiling.

“Thanks. What do we do with them though?” He asked, holding up the squirming sack.

“We need to put them some place secure,” Sloane said, walking up.

“You okay?” Wu asked.

“Mostly,” she sighed, tenderly feeling below her right eye. “I think I might get a bruise though. I wasn’t expecting those things kick so hard without feet in them!”

Nick frowned and reached up to lean her face up to him. She blushed a little at the move but he was worried about that bruise. “Let’s take them back to the loft and get you an ice pack…”

“I’m fine, really,” she started.

“No, I think Nick’s right,” Hank said, taking the sack and handing it to him. Wu quirked a brow at the smile on his face. “We need to get those things out of here and people are going to ask why you have a bruise all of a sudden. I’ll work on things here, and then start researching at the precinct. Wu can take me back. I’ll let you know what I find.”

Nick had a distinct feeling Hank was trying to get them alone together and frowned. It wasn’t as though they didn’t spend a lot of time alone together already. The feeling was cemented when Hank gave him a wink as Sloane took the sack from him.

“I’m not sure that’s _necessary_ ,” Nick said.

“I think it is,” he said.

While they were eyeing one another, Wu quickly went over to help Sloane as she was pulling a shoe out to take a picture with her phone, holding the squirming footwear down as best he could without it looking weird. It tried to kick her again and she glared and punched it into the tile floor hard enough the tile cracked, making them all jump. “…Whoops?”

“Eh, it’s not the only cracked one I saw. Plus I think that actually did stun it,” Wu said, holding up a now very limp shoe. It was still squirming a little though.

She quickly snapped another picture and shoved it back in the sack with its very indignant twin. “I think Hank is right about getting these things out of here.”

“…Alright, let’s head back to the loft then,” Nick said. He tried to ignore Hanks smile as they headed for the back entrance, managing to get around to their car without anyone noticing.

Once they were home, Nick got the still kicking sack out of the back and brought it up with them. “Where should we put this?”

“…How about behind Door Number One?” she said, gesturing to the hidden door. Nick smiled and nodded. She got it open and he tossed the sack down there, feeling satisfied at the thump below. She smiled as they closed the door and sighed, then winced and felt over her slightly swollen cheek. “Feel so stupid, getting a black eye from a pair of sentient freaking shoes…”

“Hey, not many can actually say that,” Nick said, trying to cheer her up.

“Not without getting a psych eval you mean,” she smiled. “How’s it look by the way?”

“Red,” he grimaced. “You actually probably will have a black eye.”

“Great. Bruises don’t get treated by any of my remedies,” she sighed. “I’m going to go wash my face and then use the ice pack.”

He nodded, going to grab his laptop. He figured he could start doing a little bit of research on some of their other subjects. Before he could though, one of his alarms for outside beeped. He went over and looked at the station near the elevator, clicking through a couple of cameras. He was surprised to see Audrey Zhao outside, trying to look through some of the windows. _How did she find me?_ He thought about leaving her alone, but then she started trying to open the windows and the side door. Growling, he went down and opened the side door to see her about to try and smash a window. “You do that, I’m arresting you.”

She jumped and quickly dropped the brick. “You’re home?”

“Yes. Why, were you really planning to break in?”

She hesitated. “…I just…wanted to check something.”

“Uh huh. What’s this about, Audrey?”

She bristled a bit and stood up straighter. “You know what it’s about! Juliette!”

“I told you, she left.”

“Left to _where_! I thought it was weird after three months she never called or emailed or DM’d me. After six it was worrying. It’s been almost nine now and she’s not responding so what happened to her?”

“It’s complicated—”

“So complicated she can’t contact anyone? No one else has heard from her either! I’m not the only one who’s worried! And before all this she was acting strange. She quit her job, I heard she got arrested for starting a fight in a bar—what the hell happened, Nick?”

Nick felt his heart clench a little. Audrey was worried about Juliette, he knew her heart was in the right place. But there wasn’t an easy way to explain turning into a hexenbiest, going mad with power, trying to kill your friends, and then apparently being killed only to be resurrected by a shadowy government organization. He really, really wished their was a simpler explanation. “I can’t…tell you.”

“So you do know something,” she accused.

“Yes, but I didn’t do anything to her…” _Not intentionally._

“The fact she’s not here makes that hard for me to believe,” she said. “Why did you move _here_ anyway?”

“A lot of reasons—how did you find me?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t easy. You keeping where you moved a secret was also suspect as hell.”

“Oh my God, I didn’t do anything to Juliette! I moved because she left me and I didn’t want to be in the house we shared anymore!” _True enough, really…_ “I moved here because I was also dealing with some threats and I wanted some place secure.”

“Threats?”

“I’m a police detective, Audrey,” he said impatiently. “And before you throw statistics at me again, I know, okay? I work with plenty of dumb, brutal, stupid officers. I found out one was in a hate group last year that nearly killed one of my friends and I helped make sure he went down for it. I’m not saying I’m the best cop, just…I’m not the kind of man you’re thinking! You know me, for God’s sake!”

She looked conflicted a moment, tightening a hand on her purse. “I…thought I did. I thought you and Juliette had the perfect relationship. But she’s disappeared, and you say you know where but won’t tell me, and you didn’t seem to do anything for months. Do I actually know you?”

“Audrey,” he sighed, moving towards her. She immediately went into her purse and pulled out a stun gun, making him quickly back up again.

“Stay back!”

“Audrey, I’m not here to hurt you!”

“I can’t be sure of that, can I?”

“You can be sure I’ll drop you before you drop him.”

She gasped and whirled around, surprised to see Sloane. When she tried to aim the stun gun, Sloane reached up and grabbed it, pulling it up so it wouldn’t be able to hit her. “I wouldn’t recommend that either.”

“You?”

“Me. Let go of if that.”

“What? No, I—” She gasped when Sloane jerked her grip and got the stun gun away from her.

“You don’t point that at someone for no good reason,” she growled.

“Sloane, it’s okay,” Nick said quickly. He wasn’t sure, but that growl sounded a little low and animal like. _She should be fully cured, right?_

“No it’s not! She threatened you!”

Audrey took a step away, looking between them. “…What…are you doing here?”

“None of your business,” Sloane said.

“There’s another car in there…are you and Nick shacking up?”

Nick blushed on reflex and he could see a little pink in Sloane’s cheeks too. But she looked more annoyed than anything. “No. But regardless, none of your business. Again.”

“I’m making it my business! Is this why Juliette left? Because you cheated on her?”

“No! I never…” _Intentionally,_ a guilty voice added.

“Nick and I aren’t together like that. I’m his partner at work, he’s been nice enough to let me stay in his spare room while I had to deal with some stuff.”

“Uh huh. And he didn’t give you that black eye?” she said dubiously.

Nick’s jaw dropped at the accusation. “I told you, I’m not part of that statistic!”

“Oh, yeah, like I believe you.”

Sloane glared. “Then believe me: No. A suspect’s shoe did. Now, how do you know what my car looks like? Because it’s not there, it’s at the precinct.”

Audrey tensed and Nick looked at her again. “How often have you been coming by?”

“…Often enough. I wanted to see if Juliette was here.”

“She’s not,” Sloane said. “Juliette left to deal with some things. Inner demons, let’s say.”

“You expect me to believe that? Juliette was the nicest person! She didn’t have inner demons,” Audrey scoffed.

“We all have inner demons. Yours is apparently not trusting people and letting your imagination run wild,” Sloane said. Audrey uncurled her lip at the tone. “Also stalking, trespassing, breaking and entering and potentially assault.”

“What—I didn’t—”

“She’s right, Audrey. Even if I wasn’t a police officer, I could call that in,” Nick said. She fidgeted, looking worried now and he sighed. “Look …You want the truth? Juliette went through a lot because she was dating me. We tried to make it work, but scarier situations happened and…it changed her. She ended up hating me. She did a lot to try and hurt me. Including bringing another man to our old house.” _And trying to set a trap with him to kill my mother but we’ll not get into that part._ “We ended up having a big fight. I didn’t hurt her, but she took a lot of swings at me. And Sloane, because she also thought I had something with her.”

Sloane flinched but held up her hands. “Again: Just friends.”

Nick tried not to frown at that and went on quickly. “I didn’t want any of that to happen. I’d had plans to ask her to marry me—hell, we’d have been married by now if my life didn’t mess everything up. But after what she did, she…went to get help and I had to deal with what she left behind. I don’t love her anymore, and I can’t trust her anymore. That’s all I know.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, voice wavering, shaking her head.

“It’s true,” Sloane said.

“Like I’d believe a slut like you,” she spat.

Nick was in front of her in a blink and she gasped and backed up. “Do not talk to her like that. You don’t get to call that and you don’t get to accuse me of this, friend or no.”

Sloane was surprised by the angry tone but went over and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “…Look, I’m giving you a pass because you’re obviously really upset,” she sighed. She took the battery pack out of the stun gun and handed it back to her. “The fact is, Juliette isn’t here anymore and after a lot of what she did, that’s for the best. She’s still out there.”

“We just don’t want to go looking,” Nick added. “I mean, I did at first but then…she made it clear she doesn’t want to come back. So we stopped asking.”

“…That doesn’t mean I won’t,” she said, snatching the stun gun back and then marching away.

“…She’s persistent,” Sloane sighed.

“She’s always been that way,” Nick sighed. “Hot headed and prone to making rash decisions…”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“She and Juliette met in Vet school,” he said, frowning at the memories. “She was always more her friend than mine, but I didn’t think she’d assume the worse of me that fast…”

“She’ll probably be back…”

“Yeah. I’ll see about getting a few more cameras maybe…”

“Might be good. Juliette didn’t have any family?”

“No one close, no. I’d hoped we’d be able to figure out something at some point but finding out she was alive—well, sort of—distracted me…Should’ve realized some might start thinking foul play happened,” he sighed. He looked at her and smiled. “Thanks for the rescue, by the way.”

She smiled back. “I could hear the yelling from upstairs.”

“Glad we don’t have nosy neighbors then,” he said. “C’mon, lets’ get you an ice pack.”

She shook her head. “No time. Hank called, he found Gerald.”

\---------------

“Why did he do it?” Gerald asked, hanging his head. They’d gotten his home address finally, as he’d recently moved to a small house he was renting near the edge of Hazelwood. Inside was still cluttered with boxes but they could see several with scraps of material and other odds and ends among the bric-a-brac and books and other items. “I y-yelled at him, I said it was his fault…is that why? Is it my fault?”

They looked at one another. “We don’t know for sure, sir. But we’re treating his death as suspicious,” Nick said.

“Suspicious? You mean…he didn’t kill himself?” he asked. It was hard to tell if he was confused or hopeful.

“We’re not sure. A few things make us believe perhaps there’s more to it,” Sloane said.

“We found his shoes in your workshop,” Hank said.

“H…his shoes?”

Sloane brought up a picture on her phone of the sneakers. “These are his, right?”

“I…Yes, I think so. I’m not a fan of tennis shoes so I didn’t really pay attention.”

“What about these?” she asked, bringing up one of the pictures she’d managed to take of the cursed shoes.

“Those are more my style,” he nodded.

“Have you seen them, we mean,” Nick clarified.

He frowned, looking more closely. “No…they don’t look familiar…Lovely stitching though. A very pretty pair of oxfords, but I wouldn’t leave them in the classroom if they were mine.”

“We found them near your brother,” Hank said. “Same size as him, 10.5.”

“Oh, that’s mine too,” he said. “I didn’t realize we wore the same size…” He sniffed slightly and blinked his eyes again and sighed. “I-I’m sorry, I have to call his daughter…this is all so sudden. I told you I left after he got there, he must’ve let himself in with his key. I never took it back. I don’t know anything more…”

“We understand, Mr. Wilks…quick question though, did your brother drink?”

He snorted a little. “Yes, unfortunately. Got him in some trouble a few years ago, drinking and gambling. Part of why he sold his share. I understood…some part of me did at least. The rest was angry and I let that part talk last night…”

“He had alcohol in his blood test.”

“I’m not surprised I’m afraid…You know it’s hard. We were close when we were younger, and then we just sort of drifted apart…I’d hoped we’d drift back someday…when I wasn’t so bitter.”

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sloane said.

“Just one of many…”

“…What about David Keeler?” Hank asked.

Gerald went very still. “I…what?”

“We saw his picture at the rec center. Seemed…important.”

“I…I mean, it’s tragic but I don’t see why. It happened years ago…”

“What did?” Nick asked.

“…I…I should really call Darren,” he said.

“Why? If it happened years ago?”

Gerald hesitated but sighed and sat back. “…David was a student. Back about…oh, almost twenty years ago. He was learning to swim in the pool.”

“Pool? I didn’t see a pool,” Sloane said.

“Yes, well…We filled it in. Turned it into the soccer field.” He rubbed his hands together. “David…he was afraid of water, you see. Absolutely terrified of it. Didn’t even want to take baths. But his parents thought if he learned to swim he’d work it out. He was only seven, after all…still learning…We offered swim classes during the summer and my father taught them.”

“What happened?” Hank asked, feeling a bit of dread.

“…No one’s sure. He would always try and hide during swim lessons. The other kids laughed at him, I’m afraid. Then one evening as we were locking up we…found him. Face down in the pool.” He pulled at his face, recalling it.

Nick remembered, from when he took an unintentional peek at Sloane’s memories, the time her mother threw her into a lake to learn how to swim. She’d been about the same age. It twisted his gut a little thinking about how it could’ve ended the same.

“That’s awful,” Sloane said.

“Yes…there was an investigation but ultimately we think he tried to face his fears without anyone else there to judge him. But he didn’t actually know how to swim…” He shook his head. “He must’ve snuck back in after his parents picked him up. We had no idea he was there and my father…H-he was very devastated by it. That’s why he decided to take out the pool and make a soccer field. But really, it was an accident that happened 20 years ago. I don’t think it has anything to do with this.”

“I suppose not,” Hank nodded. “I think that’ll be all for now then.” They stood to head towards the door with Gerald guiding them when he paused. “Actually, one more question. What’s that thing in the frame with him?”

“Oh, that,” he said, smiling sadly. “His favorite place to hide was with us in the tailoring room, actually. I only did my classes during the summer then too, when students needed something to occupy them. A lot of my students liked him, thought of him as a little brother. They made him that as a good luck charm—it’s supposed to look like a wave and the “Ultimate Swimmer” was meant to be encouraging. They found it, floating in the pool with him when…he was found. His parents let us put it in there with him.”

“I see…Thanks for your time,” Nick said. He nodded, closing the door and they started down to their car again.

“What do we think?” Hank asked.

“I never saw him woge,” Sloane sighed. “So either he’s human, or he was prepared.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty genuine though,” Nick said.

“Could be a great actor. He does have a bit of a dramatic streak,” Hank pointed out.

“Just a bit…But he seemed surprised we brought up David Keeler.”

“Yeah. But I gotta agree, would an accident 20 years ago still mean something now? I mean, Lydia Graham didn’t even know him.”

“I guess not,” he sighed.

“Well, we got two more addresses we might want to check out today. One is Wilk’s Lawyer, Darren Schuler, who we said we’d drop in on today. The other is Mr. Ulric, the guy in charge of Crown and Country for Portland,” Sloane said.

“Who first then?” Nick asked.

“Actually, I was thinking divide and conquer,” Hank said. “You guys take Ulric, I’ll go talk to Schuler.”

Nick frowned at him but Sloane was the one to speak up. “That doesn’t make sense, Hank. If he woges, you won’t be able to tell. Wouldn’t it work better to have a Grimm at each location.”

“Ah…Yeah, I…guess it would,” he said, realizing his matchmaking scheme wasn’t going to work.

“I’ll take the lawyer then. You guys go check out Ulric.”

“…Sounds like a plan,” he said. He texted her the address and they went back to the precinct so she could hop in her car.

Once she was gone, Nick looked at Hank. “Why do you keep trying to do that?”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Put me and Sloane together!”

“Because you two need to confess already,” he said.

Nick blushed at the straightforward answer. “I-you-I told you that I don’t even know if she still likes me! It’s been months, she’s probably over that now!”

“You didn’t notice how she looked when you tilted her chin.” He reached over, not taking his eyes off the road, to tickle under his with a smirk. Nick blushed and smacked his hand and he laughed.

“I’m serious, Hank. I just…I’ve already lost a lot this year. I don’t want to lose more,” he admitted.

Hank sobered a bit and pulled over. “Nick, look at me.” He did and Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened with Juliette…was a mess. I don’t disagree. But like you said, it’s been months. You mourned her, then dealt with her when she came back as Eve, and I know you know you don’t want her back.” Nick nodded a bit because that was true, he really didn’t. Even if she was still Juliette he’d have several reservations about even being in the same room as her. “You grieved, you’re in a better place. I’m not going to judge you for going after what will make you happy. And I think Sloane would be happy with you. After figuring out she’s the one that confessed to you, I see the way she looks at you.”

“What?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Oh yeah. She wants to climb you like a tree I’m pretty sure,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Hank!”

“Just saying, get it while you can. Because if she does move on, I know several guys at the station asking if she’s single. I’ve been running interference for you saying no but she’s private about it.”

Nick was surprised but also not. Sloane was an attractive woman, he guessed he should’ve seen that coming. _I don’t want her to be with someone else…as selfish as that sounds…_ Hank took his hand back to put the car back in drive and let him think about that on the drive over.

They got to the sleek, modern house that Mr. Ulric was living in after fighting traffic for a while. It was swanky to say the least, and very minimalist despite some of the more traditional homes around him in the nicer part of town. Being a developer for a big company paid well it seemed. Going to the door, they knocked and waited but there was no answer. Nick tried again. “Mr. Ulric? We’d like to talk to you. We’re detectives for Portland PD.” There was still no answer. Nick frowned and grasped the door handle and was surprised when it turned and opened the door. He looked at Hank who quickly grabbed his gun and nodded while Nick did the same and entered the apartment.

“Mr. Ulric?” Nick called, Hank close behind him. They could hear music coming from one the back rooms, rather loud in the house, but no answer.

“We’ve had death by scarf and death by shoes…what else could kill someone?” Hank muttered.

“Don’t jinx us…”

Hank turned the corner and blanched. “Oh God…”

“Hank?” Nick came around quickly.

“Wait—” Hank said, but it was too late.

Nick gasped when she saw a man dancing with headphones on in the living room, completely stark _naked_. He was fairly trim, with dark hair and square features and what they could see, which was all of him, spoke to someone that took a lot of care in his appearance. He turned around as he was doing a very poor version of the electric slide and froze when he saw them. He quickly hit pause on his remote but made no move to hide his body. “Who are you? What are you doing in my home?!”

Nick raised a hand instinctively to shield his eyes. “We knocked! I’m Detective Burkhardt, this is Detective Griffin!”

“…Oh! Right, my secretary called and said you wanted to see me that lawyer woman. I completely forgot about that,” he said.

“Obviously,” Nick said.

“Yes. Right now I’d like to see you in pants though—why are you naked, man?!” Hank asked, also trying to shield his eyes.

He laughed and set the remote down. “Ah, a couple of prudes. I’m in my own home, I can be naked if I want!”

“Mr. Ulric, we are here on police business!”

“My point stands, it’s my property. I always go around naked when I’m home alone. It’s completely freeing!” He strutted his stuff and Nick grimaced.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about clothes killing him I guess…” Hank muttered. Both of them were glad they’d spared Sloane this sight.

After a bit more arguing, Mr. Ulric finally agreed to put on a robe. Though it was a blue satiny robe that only came to the man’s knees and he refused to wear anything under it. He sat down on his bed with some fresh brewed coffee and sighed dramatically. “Alright, what is it you want?”

“We want to question you regarding the deaths of Lydia Graham and Rodney Wilks,” Hank said. Nick was looking into his closet, which was filled with expensive, high end clothes despite staying nude in his own home. He didn’t see any sign of the “garish pink paisley coat” Mrs. Wright saw. In fact he seemed to favor shades of gray and blue.

“Nothing to do with me,” he said, shrugging and drinking before pausing. “Wait, Rodney?”

“Rodney Wilks was found dead this morning. At the Regal Recreation Center.”

He looked honestly surprised. “Damn…well, still, nothing to do with me,” he said, taking that drink.

“Gonna need a bit more than that,” Nick said patiently. “Where were you on November 14?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was in court most of the day. We won the case. I came home so I could take off that suit and relax.” He recrossed his legs and both men looked away.

“This isn’t _Basic Instinct_ , sir, please keep your legs closed or put on pants,” Hank said.

“Honestly, you two need to grow up,” he sighed.

“We’re here on a murder investigation, we’d prefer your cooperation!”

“It’s got nothing to do with me! I’m not sure how many more times I need to say that. I’m sorry about the deaths of course, but neither one of them were my friends exactly.”

“Someone mentioned you had an argument with Lydia Graham that day.”

“…No, I don’t remember that,” he said.

“We can always subpoena court security footage. See if it saw you arguing with her,” Nick said.

“…Okay, yes, fine. We argued a little,” he sighed.

“Why? You just won, you said. Usually that would be a cause for celebration.”

He sighed, rubbing the side of his head. “It was before the trial. She wanted to argue her contract. Getting tired of being “the bad guy” I think.”

“That must’ve made you angry?”

“Oh, looking for a motive? Well, I’m not going to kill a someone over that. I was upset considering she was very good at her job, but I had her by contract. Until that ran out in two years, she was still ours unless she wanted to pay for breaching it. And even if she did, we have several other lawyers just as good on retainer so it’s not like we’re losing our golden goose.”

Nick wrote down a note then looked at him. “And Rodney?”

“Why would I want to hurt him? After all, we got a good deal with Rodney—he had some debts to pay off and spent most of what we paid him already I think. Not good with money, that one,” he said with a patronizing smile. “Then again, his brother isn’t much better. Actually had to sell his old house to pay for court costs recently. Downsized.” He laughed. “I mean, for real, he could’ve set up shop anywhere for the money we offered him and instead he has to sell up and still lost. Tragic really.” He didn’t sound sorry as he took a sip from his mug.

“You know a lot about them…”

“Information is half the battle. I get the info, I know where to strike,” he said.

Nick frowned, feeling like that sounded rather sketchy. “Where were you last night?”

He smiled. “For that, I have a concrete alibi. I was at a party downtown—a Thanksgiving Fundraiser. Great publicity.”

 _Hope you covered your giblets for that…_ “Witnesses?”

“Several hundred. I even made a speech.” He stood and walked over, grabbing a pamphlet and bringing it over. “You can confirm with he organizers, I have their numbers in there.”

Nick looked at the notes and nodded, taking photos on his phone. “We’ll do that.”

“If you want anything else, I think I should talk to legal first,” he said. “We’d be getting more into company business I’d gather. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down.” He smirked and they groaned inwardly at the joke.

Hank and Nick stood as well. “Alright. We’ll be in touch.”

“Alright, just call first. Unless you like seeing me naked.”

“We did not. No offense,” Hank said.

“It’s really very freeing. You should try it sometime.”

“I try it in the shower everyday, that’s good enough for me,” Nick said, heading to the door with Hank. “…By the way, your front door was unlocked.”

“Was it? …That’s weird. Then again, I did go out to get the morning paper. And yes I was dressed for that before you ask. I probably just forgot to lock it back up. Now, if you don’t mind…” They walked a bit faster when they saw him reach for the robes belt.

\----------------

Sloane arrived at a humbler house in a nice area near Hazelwood much quicker than Nick and Hank arrived at Ulric’s mini mansion. She had no idea what her partners would have to deal with and walked up to the door to knock. Darren Schuler opened the door and smiled. “Hello, you’re one of the detectives from yesterday.”

“I am. Detective Sloane Larson,” she said, flashing her badge on the inside of her leather jacket—which she’d finally found in her box of things—but tried to look harmless. “Is now a good time to talk to you regarding a case?”

“…Since it’s one of mine and my client is still alive, I’m afraid I’ve got attorney-client privilege…”

“It regards that case, but it’s really more to do with Lydia Graham and how well you knew her.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully but sighed and stepped aside from the door. “Fair enough. C’mon in,” he sighed. She stepped in and looked around. It reminded her a little of Monroe’s house—lots of antiques and such strewn about in decoration. “I don’t know much, I was surprised to hear Lydia was found dead the other day.”

“She was murdered,” Sloane said.

“I’d heard that too, but I wasn’t sure it was just a rumor…” He shook his head. “Lydia was a bit hard to get along with but she didn’t deserve that…”

“Can you think of anyone that would want to kill her?”

He smiled wryly. “I mean…you want a list? When I say hard to get along with, I was trying to be tactful. She was a ballbuster in the court room. And some thought she’d do _anything_ to win. No one can confirm but there’s been some private accusations of forging evidence and coaching witnesses...”

“And that would obviously cause a lot of friction,” she nodded.

“To say the least.” He sat down on his couch and motioned for her to take a seat in the chair across from him. “…While I can’t talk too much about personal information, I know Gerald called her and left some threatening messages.”

Sloane nodded. “We found those messages.”

“Yeah…But I don’t think he’d actually kill her. He’s always been dramatic but can’t even squish spiders,” he laughed.

“You know him well? I got that feeling yesterday too.”

He shrugged. “I grew up in Hazelwood. My mother did her best but we didn’t have a lot growing up. I took Gerald’s class when I was younger to learn how to make my clothes go a bit further. Tailoring, patching, hemming, all that. I was pretty good if I say so myself,” he smiled. “I still do it time to time and I kept in contact with Gerald. He was a big supporter when it came to me getting into law school. When he told me what was happening, I wanted to help so I offered to represent him pro-bono. He refused and wanted to pay me so we worked something out. He’s prideful too, I give him that…I don’t know if we got a leg to stand on anymore to be honest.”

“He seemed intent to keep fighting in those messages.”

“The optimism of thinking you’d lost a battle but could still win the war,” he said wryly. “I think he realized it was over yesterday. He’s already packing things up.”

Sloane nodded a little. “Did you know his brother?”

“Rodney? Not well…he’d come by sometimes when I was younger in the class. Kind of pushed Gerald’s buttons, made fun of us. Never seemed like he did much…I wasn’t surprised he sold his part of the center. Why?”

“He was found dead this morning.”

His eyes widened and he paled. “H…he what?”

“He was found dead at the Regal. We’re investigating, but it was due to a fall from the second story inside.”

He looked shocked, leaning back. Sloane watched him but he didn’t woge. He did look genuinely shaken though. “That…that’s awful…Is Gerald okay?”

“He’s distraught, but he’s not hurt. He says it happened after he left last night.”

He shook his head. “Man…He wasn’t my favorite guy, but that’s awful. Was it an accident?”

“We’re not sure. We’re looking into some strange circumstances regarding the scene.”

He frowned more. “I’m not sure I can help much…I hadn’t really even talked to Rodney for a decade.”

“I mainly wanted to check,” Sloane said, writing that down.

“It’s kind of scary knowing two people I’ve known might’ve been murdered. Strangling and falling…It’s tragic.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Gerald mentioned you two heard Lydia and her client, Mr. Ulric, arguing about something?”

“Ah…yes, but I’m not sure what about,” he said. “I heard “contract”, but that can mean a lot of things in our line of work.”

“I see…Would you mind if I looked in your closet?”

“My closet?” he asked, mystified.

“Yes. I could get a warrant of course…”

He shrugged and stood. “I don’t mind. Follow me.” She stood and did so, heading to the bedrooms. There were only two it seemed, the house not huge. She looked in the master, pawing through the various suits and casual clothes but nothing moved and there was no sign of a pink paisley coat.

“Can I check the other?”

“It’s my office, but sure.” He led her over to the other room that had a desk, bookshelf, some posters of old mystery dramas on the wall as well as his law degree. She opened the closet, which was one of the two foot deep lined against the wall kind, to see it was mostly filing cabinets on one side, and surprisingly craft supplies on the other. Sewing machines, bins of material and the like.

“Like I said, I keep up with what I learned. It’s a nice distraction to fix up some of my clothes and not have to pay hundreds for them.”

“…Do you knit?”

“Knit? I’ve tried,” he chuckled. “That wasn’t one of my successes. What are you looking for?”

“One of Lydia Graham’s neighbors saw someone outside her door around the time of the murder and noted something interesting.”

“Oh?” he asked curiously.

“We have a description of what he was wearing.”

He waited and then chuckled again. “Not going to tell me, huh?”

“The detective posters make me a bit leery of giving you too much information.”

He laughed then. “I have a weakness for mysteries, I admit. Mysterious women too.”

“…That the best you got?” she asked.

He laughed again. “Oh, ouch. How about “What movies do you like”?”

“I’m not here to socialize, Mr. Schuler, I’m trying to find a murderer.”

“You’d probably like these movies then.” He gestured around. “A lot have to do with that. This one is one of my favorites.” He pointed to a poster where a hand painted took up nearly the entire frame, a red letter _M_ in the center. In German it read _Ein Fritz Lang Film der Nero_.

“M?”

“It’s a mystery drama about a man killing children. The Berlin Police are hunting him, and then even the criminals hunt him because what he’s done is so vile. And Fritz Lang is a great director.”

“…Interesting,” she said, quirking a brow.

“I’ve got it if you want to watch it. It’s from the 1930s, it’s not graphic of course.”

“No,” she said again.

“I meant I could loan it to you.”

“Again, no thank you,” she said more firmly. _I’m in the middle of a murder case, why would I want to watch one about child murder?_

“Suit yourself.”

“…Actually, I’m curious. Did you know David Keeler?”

He paused a bit but then nodded slowly, looking a little morose. “I did…He was actually also my neighbor. I used to help watch him when his parents had to go out. He was like a little brother to me…I was seventeen when he died…”

“I’m sorry. We saw his photo at the rec center.”

“Ah…yeah. The minimal memorial…”

She frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, just…never seemed like much to me,” he said, looking chagrinned. “I mean, I figured the least they could do was call that soccer field they made after him or something…But then I’m sure they did what they could. Sorry, it’s my one bit of bitterness. After all, it was an accident.”

“Right…Well, I think that’s all for now,” she said, closing the door. They headed back to the front door. She paused and checked a hall closet just to be sure, only to see cleaning supplies.

“Thorough,” he smiled.

“I have to be.” She pulled out one of her cards and handed it to him at the front door. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.”

“Thank you…” He stood as well, walking her to the door. “…Say, Detective Larson…do you like sushi?”

Sloane looked back at him and arched her brow. “Yes?”

“I got a free meal from Kura, the sushi bar downtown, as a thanks for helping a friend with his case. Would you be interested in going?”

Sloane blinked but then smiled. “I can’t do that, Mr. Schuler—”

“Darren, please,” he smiled.

“ _Mr. Schuler._ You’re a bit too close to the case I’m working, it’d be a bit suspect.”

“Then maybe when you solve it? It doesn’t expire. It’s a revolving sushi bar, lots of variety. The whole meal is free…” he said enticingly.

“…We’ll see,” she said.

Darren smiled. “I’ll remember to check in then.”

Sloane smiled and headed to her car. When she got back to the station, she was surprised to see Hank and Nick there already. “Hey, you guys finish up with Ulric?”

“Yeah,” Hank said, grimacing.

“You chose the right one to interview,” Nick said, looking haunted.

“That bad?”

“Was your guy naked when you met him?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Uh, no…yours was?”

“His door was unlocked and we were worried he was dead. Ended up he was just dancing around naked.”

“He’s a nudist,” Hank explained.

Sloane gaped and then had to sit down as she started laughing so hard. “Oh my God!”

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. I needed to wash my eyes out when we got back,” Hank said.

“D…did you at least get some answers?” she gasped out.

“A few. To be honest, I’m not sure how much I trust him though,” Nick said.

“Yeah, he’s a slimy corporate stooge type…but I’m not thinking a nudist is our handyman.”

“Handwerksburschen,” Sloane and Nick said at the same time. Hank chuckled.

“Here’s the notes I have,” Nick said, handing them to Sloane. “Did you find out anything?”

“Not much. Mr. Schuler is an old student of Gerald Wilks. Offered to do the case pro-bono, but Gerald insisted on paying something. Oh, he did say Lydia Graham had been accused of doing anything to win, including tampering with evidence and witnesses. No evidence though.”

Nick and Hank looked at one another and frowned. “Huh…Mr. Ulric said she was looking to get out of her contract. Not be the “bad guy” anymore.”

“So, was it true? Or would she actually even do that if she was willing to go that far?” Nick supposed.

“Guess we can ask around and see if she told anyone else she was having second thoughts,” Sloane said. “He didn’t know Rodney was dead till I told him, was surprised. Didn’t seem like much else to ask about so I left.” She chuckled. “Oh, and he asked me out.”

Nick and Hank looked up in surprise and Hank glanced at Nick. “He did?”

“Yeah. Said he had a voucher for all you can eat sushi. Won’t lie, that was tempting…”

“…That’s not appropriate,” Nick said.

Sloane quirked her brow at the disapproving tone. “I know, I turned him down. I’m just saying, all you can eat sushi was hard to say no to.”

“The sushi was? Not the guy?” Hank asked.

Sloane blinked. “What, Darren Schuler?” She frowned, glancing at Nick and away. Then shrugged. “Eh.”

“Eh?”

“What? He’s not bad looking but I just met the guy. And he didn’t make as much of an impression on me as say finding him dancing in the buff.” She smiled teasingly at their shudders. “He offered to loan me a movie, then he offered me sushi. Bit too friendly for me. He didn’t woge though and I didn’t find anything that matched Mrs. Reynold’s description of what the man in the hall was wearing. What about Ulric?”

“No coat, and no woging, but he doesn’t seem like the type to get phased by this. Also Gerald never did, so I’m tempted to rule him out.”

“Unless him being dramatic means he’s a great actor,” Hank pointed out.

“Possible…I’m going to go make copies of your notes and mine so we can look them over, be right back,” Sloane said, taking Nick’s notebook towards the copier.

While she was walking away Hank leaned in. “I told you, you need to talk to her soon. Before someone else gets to her.”

Nick frowned and whispered back. “Stop making it seem so simple! Besides, you heard her, she doesn’t like him.”

“Maybe not him, but what about the next guy.” He nodded to where Sloane was, one of the other officers chatting with her. He was definitely leaning in too much and the body language was a bit too friendly. Sloane leaned back, not trying to encourage him. “Heck, if she didn’t feel like a sister to me, I’d throw my hat in the ring and make this a love triangle.”

“Please don’t,” Nick said, grimacing at the thought. “I will…talk to her, I just don’t know how to start the “do you still love me” conversation…”

“Maybe not sounding like your scared she’s having an affair first of all…Also, careful about that green-eyed monster. I don’t think she’ll find jealousy a turn on.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” Hank quirked a brow and Nick blushed. “Shut up…”

They both tensed when Wu leaned down between them. “What are we whispering about?”

“Nothing!” Nick said quickly. Hank rolled his eyes.

“Okay…well, I went through that security footage and found something.” He gestured for Sloane to get back over and she quickly moved up came and leaned over next to Nick, making him a little more tense. Wu pressed play and they watched from the time marker near midnight as Rodney walked in and started tipping over the photographs. They could hear a faint crashing every time—the microphone was not the greatest quality. He did stop right at David Keeler’s photo and seemed to linger before going off down the hall.

“I’m not a psychologist but I feel like smashing up pictures of your family must be a sign of some kind of resentment,” Hank said.

“That’s not the only thing we found though,” Wu said. He switched players and brought up another view of the back entrance of the building. It was only a few minutes past midnight when a man in a garish coat came through the door. A green hat was pulled low on his head and he carried a pair of shoes in his hand. Faintly as he went down the hall, they heard the whistle of _Hall of the Mountain King_ , slow and melodic enough to give them the shivers.

“Things just keep getting creepier…”

\---------------------

Adalind was cooking dinner when there was a knock at the door. She was currently chopping onions and sighed as she blotted her eyes. “Kelly? Could go you get that?”

“Sure.” Kelly stood from sitting with Diana and went to check the door. “What’s the password?”

“Uh…It’s Rosalee?”

“I’ll accept that,” she said, opening the door.

Rosalee smiled, walking in. “Hey, sorry for the late drop off.”

“No problem. Adalind’s in the kitchen.”

She nodded, heading that way. “Adalind? I brought those spices you asked for.”

“Oh, great! I was just about to finish the sauce.”

“Smells great already,” She said, setting a box down. “Spaghetti?”

“Yep. My great-grandmother was Italian, this is her recipe. I haven’t tried to make it in years.”

“Is it magical?”

“Ha, not that kind of magical, no,” she chuckled. “Something my grandmother taught me before she died: Never cook in the same pot you brew.”

“There’s a metaphor there somewhere,” Rosalee said. “Any special occasion?”

“Uh…kind of? Meisner got me an interview with a really good, wesen friendly law-firm.”

“Oh, that is good!” She said, smiling brightly. “Excited to get back to work?”

“Well, I have to get past the interview first,” she said. A little worry was creeping into her voice. “It’s been a couple of years since I even looked at a contract…”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Rosalee said.

“I hope so, I spent a lot to renew my credentials a couple of months ago…I’m still worried about Diana too.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to help watch her if Kelly needs a break,” she smiled.

Adalind quirked a brow and smiled. “Practicing?”

Rosalee blushed and then laughed a little wanly. “Oh, well…I mean someday, yes, but not soon I think. There’s so much going on.”

“Hey, I didn’t intend on becoming a mom when I did. Wouldn’t trade it though.” She picked up a small jar of nutmeg and sprinkled a little over the onions as she started sauteing them, to bring out some extra sweetness and nutty flavor. “…If you do help watching her, well…you should know I didn’t give her the suppressant.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened and she looked over to where Diana and Kelly were playing together. “You didn’t?”

“I couldn’t. You saw what it did to me, I couldn’t do that to a baby. _My_ baby,” she sighed.

“…I understand, I think. But I really didn’t know. She’s been well-behaved when I come over.”

“She’s thrown her share of tantrums, trust me,” she said. “But yeah…she’s so smart. Like superhumanly smart, for a toddler. One minute she seems to understand complex instructions like “Don’t use magic here,” the next she’s amazed she has earlobes…”

Rosalee laughed a bit. “Well, my offer still stands. And I think you’ll do great at your interview. If you need help reviewing…well, I’m not fluent in legalese, but I’m willing to help.” Adalind was stirring the pot of tomato sauce, back to Rosalee, but she heard her sniffle a bit. “Adalind?”

“Sorry, just…onions, you know,” she said.

“…Just the onions?” she asked, unsure and a little worried.

She sniffed again and sighed. “…Okay, so…I know a lot has changed the last few years. But even before then, I didn’t have a lot of _close_ friends. A lot of Hexe are taught not to get too close to people because they’ll end up hurting you and that just leads down a lot of bad roads. And I mean, I went down those roads, obviously,” she said, laughing a little self-deprecatingly. “And like…after what I did to Nick, I really didn’t expect any of you to forgive me or help me. So it’s…a little overwhelming to think…I mean…Are we friends?” she asked uncertainly.

Rosalee smiled and walked over to give Adalind a one-armed hug around the shoulders. “Yes, we are.”

She smiled. “Thank you, then…”

“No problem. You know, you and Sloane should have a heart to heart sometime. I think you’d have a lot in common.”

“Well, she’s a bit less trusting of me. I don’t blame her, considering I slept with and cursed her boyfriend…” she finished under her breath.

“…Boyfriend?” Rosalee asked, unsure. “Nick’s not…I mean, he was with Juliette at the time.”

“Well, at the time yeah, but I figured they were together now,” she said, quirking her brow.

“No…I mean, they’re living together sure, but you’re here, so they’re just kind of making do.”

“…If you say so,” she said. “I’m pretty sure one or both of them want something more.”

Rosalee frowned thoughtfully, thinking that over. _Did I miss something?_

\------------------

When they got home from work, they were greeted by a faint sound of pounding coming from behind the secret door. Sloane looked at Nick and he looked back with an equally dubious expression. Going over, he grabbed the flashlight he kept nearby now and opened the door, looking down. The shoes had managed to get out of the sack, but they were acting strange. Like toys running low on batteries, careening around and hitting the metal door on occasion.

“That’s…weird. They’re acting drunk.”

“Drunk?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“Best way I can describe it.” He handed the flashlight to her and she leaned over to watch.

“…You know, that’s accurate.” She leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they have a range they have to be in for the guy that made them? Or a time limit?”

“Possible…I guess we’ll see if they power down eventually.” He closed the door. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

They ended up making frozen pizzas and watching the news for a bit. They saw another TV spot for Renard supporting Andrew Dixon for mayor. “He’s really pulling for this guy,” Sloane said.

“He seems okay. I think that pretty red head is the one getting him to do a lot.”

“Pretty red head?” Sloane asked, arching her brow.

“Yeah. You didn’t notice her in Renard’s office?”

“…Guess I’m not into redheads,” she muttered, frowning a little. She couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

“You got a little red in your hair,” he said.

She blinked. “I do?”

“Yeah, when the light hits it.” He blushed, realizing he was talking about how the light would hit her dark hair. _Is that too obvious?_

Sloane blushed a little but smiled too. “Aside from the white streak.”

“I could call it silver if that makes it better?”

“…A little,” she said.

“Maybe you’d prefer steel?” he teased.

She laughed. “Am I that gritty? Let’s stick with silver.” She finished her pizza and sighed. “…So…I’ve been thinking about looking at where to move to.”

Nick froze mid-bite and looked at her. “Move to?”

“Well…I mean, I can’t impose on you forever,” she said.

“You’re not. Imposing, I mean,” he said, setting his plate down.

“Nick, we both nearly died of embarrassment when you found my underwear in with your laundry last week…” she said, trying to smile. It was funny, but still a little embarrassing when he’d been folding the laundry on the couch and he suddenly held up a lacy black triangle of cloth. He’d froze for a moment and she’d looked up and snatched them quickly while they both spluttered.

Nick blushed again. “S-so we get another hamper…”

Sloane frowned. “Nick, I have to move out sometime…”

“…It’s too soon though, right? I mean you only just got the curse lifted two weeks ago.” _I don’t want you to move out. Say that. Or wait, would that weird her out? We’re not even dating and I want her to live with me indefinitely?_

“But I think we’re both going to be wishing for a little…space eventually,” she said. She looked down. “I mean…That Audrey lady thought we were together. You’re…handsome, so you get a lot of attention. You’re not exactly going to be able to bring any dates home with me here—I mean you could, I’m not saying I’d have a problem with it,” she said, though her voice did sound strained to him. “But it’s gonna cause some friction, I’m betting…It’d be easier without me here cramping your style.”

“Who says I’m bringing dates home? Or that you’re cramping my style?” Nick asked, frowning in confusion.

“I mean eventually,” Sloane sighed. “You’re not going to stay single forever and I don’t want to be the one to get in your way.”

“…That’s true, I do want to find someone…” he said. “Um…What about you though?”

“What about me?” she asked, confused.

“Do you…I mean, that guy asked you out. You definitely get attention. Do you want to date?” he asked, trying to keep calm. He was testing the waters to see if this was the right time to finally say it.

Sloane frowned more. “Are you and Hank trying to set me up with Schuler or something?”

“What? No! I just mean in general,” he said quickly.

She shrugged helplessly. “I…wanting to, sure, but I don’t have a lot luck in that department…”

“Well, neither do I…” he said, smiling wryly.

“Yeah…we both have exes that tried to kill is, what does that say about us?” she asked, trying to be funny.

“I think it says we deserve to find someone that makes us happy…” he said honestly.

Sloane looked reflective and unsure. She agreed, but there were a lot of factors. Their lives were so complicated and dangerous… _I want to say I’d be the one to understand best, but I don’t want him thinking I’m getting crazy and attached…can’t ruin this again._ “That would be great…but isn’t that going to be hard when we’re living together?”

Nick frowned and was about to say more when his phone rang. He glared and picked it up. “Burkhardt.”

“D-Detective Burkhardt, please help!” an older voice said over the phone.

“Who is this?” he asked, on alert.

“I-It’s Carol Wright!”

“Mrs. Wright? What is it?”

“The man is back! I saw him!”

Nick felt a chill go down his back. “Where?”

“In the building! I was coming back from playing cards with my friends and he was there at the end of the hall! I saw his coat and he’s whistling that damn song! I just barely got in my apartment and he’s out there now!” She squealed and Nick could faintly hear pounding on the door. The pounding echoed from behind the hidden door and Sloane looked at it and then at him.

“We’ll be there soon, I’ll have any available police over there ASAP!”

“Please hurry!” she sobbed.

Nick hanged up and called in for police to get over to the apartment building while Sloane got her boots and jacket back on. She called Hank while he got his on and they rushed to Nick’s car to drive over.

Meanwhile, Wu and Franco rushed over to the apartments and rushed to the elevators, surprising several tenants. When they got the sixth floor, they moved swiftly down to Mrs. Wright’s. The apartments were so large and widely spaced that if a tenant was home, they didn’t seem to have come out to check what was happening. Wu noted right away that the door was kicked open and drew his gun along with Franco. He moved in, the gun raised. A man in a garish coat was straddling the prone Mrs. Wright—who was struggling and trying to cry out.

“Police, get your hands up!” Franco shouted.

The man paused and then slowly raised his hand—they were gloved but one was mussed with blood and held a bloodied silver needled between his fingers. Franco and Wu both felt a shiver up their back but moved for him—only for him to suddenly grab Mrs. Wright and haul her up as a shield. Their jaws dropped when they saw that the old woman’s lips were half sewn shut.

“Help me…” she managed, sobbing.

“Let her go,” Wu ordered. The man said nothing, hiding behind her. Reaching into a pocket, he drew out a large pair of scissors—tailor’s sheers—and held them to her neck. She squealed and sobbed, still unable to move with the scarf around her wrist. They didn’t notice the belt snake back up to where it was meant to be on his waist. “Let her go, now!”

He moved slowly around the room, never letting them get a clean shot at him. Once he was half-way around he pushed her into them, forcing them to grab her as he rushed for the door.

Frank helped Mrs. Wright to sit as she sobbed and tried to keep her from clawing at her lips and doing more damage. Wu got on his walkie as he rushed out to try and follow him. “All units, be advised suspect is on the run! Secure entrances and exits!” He watched him get to the stair well and duck inside. When Wu went to look however, he was gone as though he’d evaporated into air. He looked up as the Elevator dinged again and saw the EMTs were there. “Apartment 604!” He ordered, and they nodded and rushed in while he turned to look back into the stairwell, cursing when he still couldn’t see any sign of him. He turned to head back to secure the scene, figuring that they’d have the place surrounded anyway.

It was only a few minutes Sloane and Nick had arrived. Rushing past the tenants again, they got to the elevators to go to the sixth floor. Exiting, they saw Wu standing in front of the stair door. “Wu!”

He looked at them and sighed in relief. “Guys…glad you got here.” He rushed up to them as they looked into the apartment. They could see Mrs. Wright was on her couch from the entryway, crying and shaking while an EMT was looking her over. She looked worse for wear but she was alive. “We got here as soon as we could,” Wu said. He spoke more quietly. “She says the scarf came under her door and unlocked it for him. She ran for the bedroom but it tripped her and tied up her legs, and then a belt actually tied up her arms. Then he came over and…”

“And what?” Nick asked, worried.

“…He tried to sew her mouth shut.”

Their eyes widened and the looked over to see a red blotch on the older woman’s face, the EMT carefully removing a thick bit of red thread to treat her. “What the hell?” Sloane muttered, disturbed.

“No idea what he was going to do after that,” Wu sighed. “He used her as a shield then managed to get away. I ran to the stairwell but didn’t see him and the EMTs came up through the only elevator. I put other officers at the exits and on the stairwell at the ground floor but they haven’t seen him.”

“He’s probably hiding somewhere till he can get away,” Nick said.

“Let’s go check,” Sloane said. He nodded and they went to the stairwell. It was an echoing tower of stairs, any sound magnified by the close quarters as it bounced off the rails and walls.

“I don’t hear him,” Nick said after a moment of concentration.

“I’m going to check a floor down, maybe he ducked in there before Wu saw him.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Wait for Hank, he should be here soon!” Sloane said, and he had to marvel at how silently she still managed to move down the stairwell to the next door below. Nick frowned but sighed and opened his door up, waiting for Hank.

Sloane peaked out into the next floor’s hall first before moving through the door. Nothing stood out to her. It seemed pretty quiet; all the apartments closed. She could faintly hear televisions going when she opened up her hearing. A dog moving around in one. A couple getting romantic in another. Nothing to be suspicious of till she moved past one alcove and heard a breath. Just one, but it was too close to be in a room. Her eyes flicked to the darkness there and she frowned, unable to see anything. Reaching out a hand, she inched it into the apparently empty divot in the wall—and touched a living thing that shouldn’t be there.

The moment her hand touched it a pink paisley coat rippled into view—but before she could look up and see the one who wore it’s face he rushed her and pushed her away. She shouted when her back hit the wall across from the alcove but then growled and gave chase as he started running for the stairwell again. She was right behind him, bursting through the door on his heels. He was trying to go down and she vaulted over the railing and jumped across to get ahead of him. Skidding to a stop, he quickly turned and headed up again. “Nick! I found him! He’s coming your way!”

Nick opened the door quickly, drawing his gun. The Paisley Man ran past him though, to the next flight of stairs. The apartments were only six stories high, so the next door was to the roof. Nick and Sloane both followed through the door.

“Freeze! Portland PD!”

The figure paused and turned slightly. The two detectives frowned though—they couldn’t seem to make out their face with the green hat, scarf and coat. It was almost like his features kept shifting—bigger, smaller, rippling like a reflection in a pool of water pelted by rain.

“He can go invisible,” Sloane said.

“…What?” he asked, unsure if he heard her right.

“It’s probably one of his accessories. That coat maybe. I didn’t see him till I heard him breathing.”

“Great…” Louder, he called to the man. “We’re not just Detectives. We’re Grimms!” He straightened more, eyeing both of them even more cautiously. “Turn yourself in and this doesn’t have go any further.” He hesitated a moment before running towards the side of the building. Nick and Sloane were shocked a moment before running after him. “Stop!”

He threw out his hand before getting to the edge, his scarf flying out to give him a step up—and then launching him like a catapult. It gave him enough momentum to land on the roof of the next building. Then it seemed to fly on the wind, flattening itself and riding the air over to his waiting hand.

Nick cursed and slid to a stop, but Sloan kept going. “Sloane!”

She didn’t hear him, focused entirely on Paisley Man. She felt her legs burning, her body tightening like a stretched rubber band. Her eyes were burning too and she recognized it from before when they would go black with her iris burning white. Like when she faced Juliette that last time. Like when she was drugged by Dierdre. But her mind was still with her. And her body felt as strong as when she was a beast. She got her foot on the ledge and jumped and just like before, she made it to the other roof. Though this time she rolled at the end to save her human knees from impact. When she rolled to her feet, Paisley Man was backing away in shock. Sloane took the opportunity to rush him, trying to uppercut him. She didn’t expect the scarf to grab her arm and pull her away. He made a run for the door to the building while Sloane kept the scarf from going for her neck. “Get back here!”

Nick meanwhile was staring in shock. He turned when he heard someone behind him to see Hank running up. “Hey! You found the guy?”

“Yeah, but he got to the next roof! Used that cursed scarf…”

“Shit! Where’s Sloane?”

“Also on the next roof…she jumped.”

Hank rushed over and looked across to see her struggling with the scarf now. “How the—Oh hell, we better get over there!”

Nick cursed and ran for the door since he didn’t think he’d be able to make that jump.

Sloane wished she had her knife again as the scarf kept moving like a snake over her body, constricting and pulling her. She tried to get to the door but it would wrap around her legs and pull her back. When it tried to pull her near the waist high ledge again, she dug her fingers between the fingers and tries to rip them apart. The scarf tried to tighten even further but she put her strength into it and ripped the fibers apart.

She couldn’t see him, but the man in the paisley coat gasped and staggered as it was pulled apart. He moved into the shadows and his form rippled as he disappeared into them despite the bright colors, just as Hank and Nick rushed into the stair well and moved for the roof entrance. Sloane was tearing the scarf to shreds and huffed when she threw the pieces down.

“Sloane! You okay?” Hank asked.

“No! He got away!” she snarled. “And this thing pissed me off more!”

“But are you hurt?”

She panted, catching her breath and shook her head. “No…”

“Even though you jumped from one roof to another?”

Sloane paused and looked at him. “…I did…”

“Seems like you still got some spring powered legs,” Hank said.

“Yeah…I still look human, right?” she asked worriedly.

“You look fine,” Nick said reassuringly. “We’d better get out of here though.”

“Right…” She sighed and moved to grab the scraps of knitted cloth. When she touched them though, they crumbled away into dust. “…Shit,” she muttered.

“Keeps getting weirder,” Hank said.

“I’m more concerned we’re out evidence now,” she said.”

“It’s okay. You’re alive, Mrs. Wright is alive. We’ll get this guy,” Nick said.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later…he’s going nuts. Trying to sew her mouth shut? Why?”

“Maybe he found out she knew what he looks like. Trying to keep her from telling us,” Hank said, walking down with them. They didn’t notice their perp in the shadows watching them leave.

\--------------------

“You jumped across the roofs again?” Monroe asked, jaw dropping.

“Yeah. Without being an animal.”

“That’s cool!”

“You’re not wrong, but I’m still a little worried…”

“It’s pretty normal,” Adalind said. They’d asked her to meet with them at the spice shop to see if she knew anything the day after chasing their perp on the roof. “Curses, especially the extreme ones, can have lasting effects. Wesen abilities too.”

“Like what happened to Nick after the Cracher Mortal, the PTZD,” Rosalee nodded.

“Exactly.”

“…I can still do that,” he said.

“What?” they all asked.

“Not easily or on purpose, but I can slip into that…mode sometimes. It feels like it anyway. Cold and like my heart slows down… But I keep control of my mind now.”

“Oh, good,” Monroe sighed. “I mean if you can control that Hulked out part of you, that could be handy too.”

“Your senses stayed sharp after the Jinnamuru Xunte too,” Rosalee pointed out. “Maybe Grimms are highly adaptive…what if you keep parts that would be the handiest after being “cured” of a curse.” She gestured at Nick. “Heightened senses and reflexes.” She moved her hand to Sloane. “Heightened physical ability.”

“That’d be great, aside from the getting cursed part,” Nick said blandly.

Sloane looked pensive. “…You might be right. Because I think I kept something from when Dierdre fed me that curse too.”

“You what?” Nick asked, alert quickly.

“I did it when Juliette threatened all of you. And then again when she confronted me at the hospital. It’s like I could see her and all of you woged without you woging…”

“Oh, that’d be…terrifying,” Monroe said.

“But handy,” Adalind nodded. “I mean, you could look at your suspects to find your perp. Does it hurt?”

She tried to remember. “My brain feels like someone’s wringing it out like a rag…And my nose bleeds.”

“Okay, then no, don’t do that,” Nick said.

“I can handle pain—”

“If your nose is bleeding, that’s a sign something is wrong,” Nick said firmly. “You could be having an aneurism for all we know.”

“He’s right,” Rosalee said, looking concerned. “If we don’t know what it’s doing to your brain, it’d be better to not use it. Aspirin might not fix that.”

She sighed and held up her hands. “Okay, okay, I get it…”

“You are free to take up parkour though I think,” Monroe said with a smile.

Sloane’s eyebrows ticked up and she smiled. “Oh…that’ll be fun.”

“Oh God,” Nick sighed, feeling like he might need that aspirin.

“Any luck on the Handwerksburschen?” Rosalee asked.

“Not really. We’ve got a couple of suspects but neither of them woged. Considering Gerald’s brother was killed too, we think it’s something to do with the rec center. But if we’re wrong, it could be a lot of others Lydia Graham crossed…”

“We managed to get copies of the legal documents regarding the case sent over, but they wrote them in like…code,” Sloane said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just legal jargon,” Nick said with an amused smile.

“Legal Jargon? Well…you know, we know a lawyer,” Rosalee said, smiling at Adalind.

Both Grimms looked at her. “That’s right…Adalind, could you help?” Nick asked.

“Uh…well, I mean, I’m reviewing for my interview soon,” she said, pulling a book out of her satchel. “I’m rusty…”

“This would be good practice,” Rosalee said.

“Yeah, you said you were a contract lawyer, right? It’s a lot of contracts.”

“…Alright,” she said, nodding slowly. “I’ll see what I can find if you bring them over to the house.”

“Will do!” Sloane said, saluting. Nick rolled his eyes with a smile and put her hand down. She pouted at him but then smiled when he smiled at her.

Rosalee watched them, her eyebrows ticking up. _Oh…oh, wow…_ She glanced at Adalind who smiled knowingly. She smiled a bit as well. _How did I miss that?_

“Oh, actually…we might also need to contact Meisner,” Sloane realized.

“Why?”

“One of Juliette’s friends is poking around accusing Nick of killing her.”

“What?” They all ask.

Nick sighed. “She’s just worried…”

“Nick, you should be worried too. If she starts spreading that around it could get bad,” Monroe said.

“It’s already bad. We caught her trying to break into the loft yesterday.”

“Break in? That’s definitely bad!” Adalind said.

“Well what do I do? Ask “Eve” to talk to her? That’s going to just get worse,” he said. Sloane rolled her eyes and Nick frowned but then felt his phone buzz. Pulling it out, he looked at it and saw Hank sent him a text from work.

_We have a big problem_

There was a link underneath and she recognized it was to a Facebook page. Clicking it, he went pale. “…Never mind. It already is worse.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned his phone around and showed the Facebook page titled _Detective Nick Burkhardt: Murderer?_

Their jaws all dropped and Sloane leaned in to look. “What the hell?!”

“She started a group to outright accuse me of murder,” he said.

“Oh my God,” Rosalee said, looking at it as well.

“This is going a little far!” Monroe said next to her. Nick was looking through, wincing when he saw photos of him and Juliette together while describing their relationship and her “ _mysterious behavior and disappearance.”_

“What do I do?” he asked, imagining this getting to a news station or elsewhere.

Sloane sighed and took her phone back, dialing a number. “I’ll get someone to take care of that page, but we need to do something to get Audrey off your back.”

“And keep her from going to the press too,” Adalind said. “Screenshot that and show Sean.”

“The Captain?” Nick asked, looking hesitant.

“He’s got friends at most of the newspapers. It’s how he keeps coverage on some of what you do to a minimum when it could be bad,” she explained. Nick hesitated and she sighed. “I get you don’t want to be indebted to him, but it’s your best option to avoid an all-out smear job that has everyone thinking you’ve gotten away with a murder. One you didn’t commit.”

“Thank you for that addendum,” he muttered. She gave him a flat look and he sighed and nodded.

Sloane meanwhile was on the phone waiting for it to be picked up. “This is Jacob Sauer.”

“Jacob? It’s Sloane.”

“Hey! What’s up, not time for our usual catch up. Not turning into a furry again, are you?”

“No, and stop calling it that,” she sighed. “I need a favor. Well, Nick needs a favor. If I send you Facebook address, can you like…make it disappear?”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“All traces?”

“All traces that aren’t like saved pictures on an unconnected device, yeah. Why?”

“You’ll see when you get it…”

“Sounds bad,” he said. “Hey, uh…Have you heard from Mel?”

Sloane frowned. “No…why?”

“Just, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She’s still a little hesitant about both our lifestyles, but she usually checks in with me now and then…”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sloane said, though she was worried as well thinking about that. “I mean, we didn’t contact each other for years. I’m sure she’s just busy.”

“Hopefully you’re right…Send me that link and I’ll get on that.”

“Okay. I owe you one, J,” she said.

“You owe me like three, but who’s counting. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Sloane chuckled and hanged up. She knew she could count on Jacob.

They knew they could count on Renard too, but his unamused face was still a bit worrying. “Why didn’t any of you tell me this sooner?”

“We just found out about the webpage,” Hank said.

“You said she was already harassing you though.”

Nick sighed and rubbed over his temples. “It’s…recent, as far as I know. She’s just been getting more and more worked up. Which isn’t unusual for her, but I thought Audrey would be more reasonable if I just didn’t feed her need to know everything…”

“This is typical for her?”

“She’s what my mom would politely call a “busy body”,” Hank said dryly. “I met her a couple of years ago and she tried to learn everything about me in one night and fix my marriage problems. Didn’t work, as you may have noticed.”

“Usually she gets bored after a while. Apparently her loyalty to Juliette is a lot deeper than that though, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she’s not backing down.”

“Hm. Well, I put the word out for no news outlets in the city to take her seriously. But I can’t account for everything—she might get to someone eventually. Could we get “Eve” to just…tell her to stop?”

Nick frowned. “I think seeing Eve would make things worse. How do we explain _that_.”

He sighed. “Fair point…We need to figure out something though. I’ll think on it and we can meet later to make a plan before you end up on an episode of one of those true crime shows.”

“…Thank you, sir,” Nick said a little begrudgingly.

Renard nodded and sat down. “Any updates on the case after last night?”

“Not yet, no,” Nick said. “With the scarf just turning to dust we’re out a murder weapon and a lead…”

“I still have a pulse though,” Sloane pointed out.

“That is more important,” he nodded.

“We’re taking all the files we could find at Graham’s apartment over to Adalind and she’s looking through them for us,” Hank said.

He nodded. “Good. Try to make some headway by the end of the day though. Go over your notes, talk to your suspects—whatever you have to do.”

“Do you worry more bodies will pile up?” Sloane asked.

“Yes. But also someone at the DA’s office went to school with Lydia and personally asked about the case. So I’d like to show them we have it handled.”

“We’ll try and get something by the end of the day,” Hank said.

He nodded. “Alright. Get to it then.”

They headed out the door, almost running into a very attractive woman with red hair as she was heading for Renard’s office. “Oh! Excuse me, sorry!” she said.

“Our fault,” Hank said. “Hey…you’re that lady working with Andrew Dixon, right?”

She smiled. “Rachel Wood. Media relations.” She shook their hands. Sloane shook hers but eyed her slightly and had to begrudgingly admit she was very pretty.

“What brings you back by the station?” Nick asked.

“Your captain’s commercial was a big hit. I’m here to try and convince him to do some other spots.” She tilted her head. “Three…are you Larson, Burkhardt and Griffin?” she pointed at them but in the completely wrong order.

“Burkhardt,” Nick said raising his hand.

“Larson.”

“Griffin.”

“Got it,” she smiled. “I heard about you three. You have great success records. Don’t suppose you would like to do a spot for Andrew Dixon?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Sloane said. “I don’t like being filmed.”

“I’d have to know more about the man. Haven’t gotten the time to sit down and look at the issues,” Hank said.

“Same. On both accounts,” Nick nodded. He was also not sure he should be showing his face too much until this mess with Audrey was figured out.

She pouted a bit then smiled. “You sure? You all have faces for television. Especially you, Detective Burkhardt. I’d been curious about you from what your Captain’s told me…”

Nick blushed a bit on reflex as she leaned in and leaned back. “Uh…thank you?”

Sloane frowned a little, as did Hank who nudged his partner slightly. “We’re a bit busy right now.”

Nick blushed more. “Right, yes. Gotta get back to work.”

“Maybe later?”

“Uh, no…sorry,” he added, trying to be polite.

“Pity,” she pouted. She took out her card and rather unsubtly put it in his front pants pocket. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Nick was a bit shocked by the brazen move and watched her head to Renard’s office. Sloane just glowered after her, especially when she saw her getting suspiciously cozy with Renard as well. “She’s _friendly._ ”

Nick noticed the tone and quickly but gently ushered her towards their desks. “I think that’s how people in that business are…”

She snorted. “Another reason not to deal with them.”

Nick didn’t disagree exactly but he was curious why Renard would tell her about them. He didn’t voice his concern though because as they walked up to their desks he was distracted by a small but pretty bouquet of flowers on Sloane’s desk. “…where’d those come from?”

“No idea,” Sloane said, looking just as confused.

“Oh, a courier brought them,” Wu said. “Hanukkah gift?”

“Not the time yet and generally not the kind of thing I expect.” She picked up the small vase to look them over. It was a small blue vase with a silver ribbon, with roses, pink daisies, delphinium, bells of Ireland, and thistles. It was pretty if a little overkill for her tastes. At the front she found a card tied to the ribbon with the bow. “ ‘ _Detective Larson, hope these brighten your day, my offer is still open any time you’re ready. For the dinner and the movie. Sincerely, Darren_.’ …Okay…”

Nick frowned. “Why is he sending you flowers?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, he liked me I guess.”

“Why?”

Sloane blinked and then looked at him with a hint of hurt and annoyance. “Why would he like me?”

He flushed and quickly waved his hand. “I-what-no, that came out wrong. I meant why does _he_ like you this much, no other suspect ever sent you flowers.”

She sighed and set them down. “I don’t know, okay? I mean, you got me flowers. Why did you do that?”

“…to cheer you up,” he said honestly. She smiled a little bit but he was quickly continuing to talk. “But he doesn’t know you that well. And it’s inappropriate considering we’re working a homicide he might be involved in.”

“Or it could be Gerald or anyone else for all we know,” she pointed out. “Also, I don’t think it’s more inappropriate than someone sticking their card directly into your pants.”

“I didn’t ask her to!”

“I didn’t ask him to either!”

“Okay, before you two get to feuding, just calm down,” Hank said, holding up his hands. “Nick’s right though, we don’t know if he is or isn’t our chief suspect still.”

“I didn’t see anything that related to the scarf or shoes at his house, I’m not sure it’s worth continuing to investigate him,” she said, sitting down.

“Is it you or the flowers saying that?” Nick asked.

She glared. “You want to question my professionalism? Mine? Really?”

“Yeah, Nick. _Really?_ ” Hank asked, gritting his teeth.

“I’m not questioning that! I just don’t think we’ve done due diligence when it comes to him. Something’s off here.”

“Because he sent me flowers?”

“Yes-no!”

“Sloane! Nick!” Hank said, putting hands on their shoulders. “Calm down, okay? People are staring.” Sloane flushed a bit and so did Nick when they remembered they were at the precinct. “He’s just concerned.”

Sloane frowned and booted up her computer. “Whatever…”

Hank frowned as well and looked at Nick who just sighed. He didn’t need the stare from Hank to know he’d put his foot in his mouth.

After getting the files checked out, they went to drop them by Adalind’s place. She frowned when she saw the four boxes. “I’m sorry, you want me to get through this _today_?”

“We’re just covering our bases,” Nick sighed. He lifted the box in his arms. “This is the main one, it’s got to do with the rec center. If you can figure anything out from that we can maybe narrow the rest down.”

“Okay…” She took it and then had them set the others down near the couch. “I’ll see what I can find. Oh, and I called Meisner about what’s happening with that old friend of Juliette’s.”

“Did he have an idea what to do?”

“Not immediately…He’s going to “Thanks, we appreciate it,” Hank said.

“Let’s just say you all owe me a night off and a nice dinner.”

“Deal!” Nick said. They headed out as she started going through the files. “Where to next?”

“I’m still liking Gerald for this. He’s the one with the tailoring experience” Hank said.

“Schuler’s his student though,” Sloane said.

“Let’s go ask Gerald some more questions then. Schuler probably won’t be fare behind,” Nick nodded.

\----------------

Audrey Zhao walked up to the old paint factory slowly. She’d been hesitant to go back after her last confrontation, but the fact that the Facebook page she’d made was mysteriously now gone and she couldn’t reupload it had pushed her to come back. She looked in the windows again and saw both cars were gone. Breaking a window was going to be too telling so she was trying to find another way in. Going to the garage door, she pulled at it and grunted to find it was locked. Huffing, she went around again. The side door was metal and even with the small crowbar she brought hard to open. There were bars on most of the windows. It felt like a fortress, and that only made her suspicions grow. “What the hell are you hiding?”

Going to the other side, she saw the fire escape leading up to one window that wasn’t barred. Biting her lip, she hesitated but finally made her way up quickly. No one was inside the loft itself either she could see. Taking a breath, she jammed the flat end of the crowbar between he channel and the window sill. She winced at a little splintered wood but hoped it would take Nick a long time to notice. She wanted to look for evidence and get out without being caught. Jamming it again, she managed to get it into the small opening. Then with a grunt she pushed hard until it jerked up, the lock broken.

Breathing out, she stepped inside quickly. It wasn’t terrible really—he’d fixed it up. What used to be the offices for the paint factory was now a decent little apartment. Looking around, she noted there were actually two bedrooms and both were being slept in. _…Okay, maybe that other woman isn’t sleeping with him. But that doesn’t mean he’s in the clear!_ Looking around though, she could find nothing suspect. There was no evidence he’d done anything nefarious—just standard home goods and the like.

When she found his laptop she was sure there would be something on it. But she didn’t know, because it was password protected. Nothing she tried opened it either—then she gasped when the webcam came on and took her picture after her fourth failed attempt. “Shit!” she quickly closed it and got up to pace. “C’mon, you have to have something here that says what you did with her…” _Unless he really didn’t do anything…I could take the laptop and find someone to get it open. But I’m already breaking and entering, do I add theft to that? It’s for Juliette! But…if I’m wrong…_

She groaned, wondering if she really had let her imagination run away with her. As she was pacing though, she heard a faint knocking sound. She paused, looking around as it happened again. It was rhythmic—the beat from a song she thought. … _The Hall of the Mountain King?_ She looked around. She walked the room, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. She pressed her ear to the wall, following it around till she heard it just behind it. “What the hell…?” She frowned and started pulling at the panel, thinking it might slide. Instead her hand pushed through and she gasped as the panel opened.

“Oh my God…I knew you were hiding something!” She heard the tapping again and stuck her head through to look down. “Juliette?!” There wasn’t an answer, just more echoing taps. She frowned and squinted in the dark. She couldn’t see anything. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket, she turned on the flashlight and tried to look around. “Juliette? It’s me, Audrey! Can you hear me?” It was quiet and she sighed and put her phone back in her pocket. Swinging her leg over, she started descending the ladder down into the echoing tunnel below. “I’m here to help!” She got to the bottom and pulled her phone out again. “Juliette?” She frowned at the empty tunnel. She heard footsteps, but when she shined the light no one was down there. Then she trailed the light down to see a pair of men’s shoes with no feet stumbling towards her. She felt her blood cold and backed up. “W…what…?” They ran towards her and she screamed.

\------------------

“I don’t know anything!” Gerald said.

“He really doesn’t,” Darren said. Gerald had called him in when they arrived and refused to talk until he arrived. Nick was resisting glaring at him.

“The person likely responsible for these murders assaulted Mrs. Wright. Tried to sew her mouth shut,” Hank said.

“Oh good Lord,” Gerald said, shuddering and looking nauseous.

“That is awful,” Darren agreed. “But Gerald was home last night.”

“And you?” Nick asked.

“Me? Uh, I was at home too,” he said.

“Can anyone verify that? For either of you?”

“I was alone.”

“So was I,” Darren nodded. “So yes, we don’t have witnesses.”

“What about Jensen Ulric?” Gerald asked. “He’s still my prime suspect!”

“He has an alibi for Lydia Graham’s murder,” Nick sighed. “Fundraiser with hundreds of guests.”

“And for Rodney?”

“No motive for one thing. He sold his share after all,” Sloane said.

“…Oh God…what if it was me he wanted to kill?” Gerald said.

Hank arched his brow and looked at his partners. They’d considered that, given that Gerald wore the same shoe size. “Why would he try to kill you?”

“Because I wouldn’t sell!”

“But he won the case,” Nick pointed out. “Why would he have to kill you if he won?”

“I…don’t know,” he sighed, seeing their point.

“Is there anything special that would happen if you died? A will or anything?”

“…No,” he said, shaking his head. “I never got married or had children…not of my own, anyway.” He looked at Darren. “Just my students…”

Darren smiled and patted his shoulder. “He’s always done his best by us.”

Gerald smiled but it seemed a little strained to Nick. He frowned, looking between the two of them and wondering what they weren’t saying behind those vaguely curtained words. Before he could ask his phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. He’d hoped it was Adalind, but to his confusion instead it was an alert from his computer. He frowned and opened it and jumped to his feet when he saw it’d snapped a photo of Audrey, inside his home, trying to get on his computer. “I…have to go.”

“Nick?” Sloane asked, confused. She and Hank held up a waiting hand to their suspects and followed him. “What’s going on?”

He sighed and showed them the picture. “I have my computer set to take and email a photo of anyone trying to log on to my laptop unsuccessfully and text it to me…”

“Oh shit,” Hank muttered. “She broke into your place?!”

“Apparently. I’m going to go see if I can catch her in the act and this time I’m pressing charges.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Sloane nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No…No, you two keep working the case,” he sighed. “I feel like we’re close to something. But a Grimm staying here would be best.”

Sloane and Hank glanced at one another but then nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure…You take the car, we can call Wu to come grab us.”

“Okay. Thanks,” he nodded, then quickly left. Hank and Sloane went back to where Gerald and Darren were, and saw them quickly break apart as if arguing.

Sloane quirked her brow. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Gerald said. “Did Detective Burkhardt need to leave?”

“Yeah, on a personal matter. Now, where were we?”

He sighed and threw up his hands in frustration. “Really! I don’t think I can contribute anything to this! And I’m feeling more worried now that maybe I’m going to be killed!”

“Gerry, calm down,” Darren said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s easy for you to say! Maybe it’s you—”

“Gerald,” he warned.

Sloane and Hank frowned. “What does he mean by that?”

Gerald swallowed and shook his head. “I…It’s nothing…sorry, I got worked up a bit there…”

Darren sighed and looked at them. “Do you have anything to formally charge him?”

“Not as of yet…”

“Then why don’t we call it for today. Until you have something more concrete.”

They sighed and stood. “If you insist…”

“I do. I’ll show you to the door.” He walked them there, opening it for them. But he tapped Sloane slightly on the shoulder. “Oh, but, uh…Miss Larson? Did you get my flowers?”

Sloane sighed slightly. “It’s Detective Larson. And yes, but I’m afraid no matter how nice they are, that is not something you should be doing.”

He smiled, not seeming to mind her glare. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Not sure a judge would see it that way, you sending flowers to the detective on a case where your client is a suspect,” Hank said dryly.

“Point taken,” he sighed, holding up his hands. “I’ll stop.”

“Good. We’ll be back later.”

“I’ll be sure Gerald calls me again then.”

Sloane frowned slightly as they were walking away. “I can’t get a read on that guy,” she said as Hank took out his phone to call them a ride.

“He is kind of odd,” Hank nodded.

“Not just that…he’s not stupid, why is he sending me flowers and being like this?”

“Maybe you’re just irresistible,” Hank said teasingly.

She snorted. “Yeah, to everyone I don’t want…”

Hank quirked his brow and sighed a bit. _Why are two top notch detectives so **dumb**_ _sometimes?_ “Do you want to go after Nick?”

“No, I think he can handle Audrey on his own. Let’s go back over what we have, maybe we missed something,” she said, heading for the car.

Hank sighed again. _So, so dumb…_

_\--------------------------_

Nick stopped in his garage on the way up and grabbed the phone from Hadrian’s Wall he had in his car. He dialed the number while leaning against the car.

“Nick?” Meisner questioned.

“Hey. Um…I’ve got a problem and I need your…or maybe Eve’s help.”

“…Is Sloane alright?”

“She’s fine. It’s actually another issue. An old friend of Juliette’s is starting to cause trouble, saying that I killed her.”

“Ah…that is very…Inconvenient?”

“That’s one word for it,” He sighed. “I don’t exactly know how to convince her I didn’t. So if you or Eve have some ideas…”

“Let me talk to her. I would also like you and Sloane to come to our base soon. We have some other things to discuss.”

“Like what?” he asked suspiciously, heading for the elevator.

“I’m afraid Black Claw isn’t done yet,” he sighed. “We’ve been trying to find their other founder, but he is even harder to pin down than the others. Always working from the shadows and what not. But I believe he may be scheming again. We want to be sure we are all prepared.”

He sighed and closed the gate, heading up. “When do you want us?”

“Give us a few days. Trubel is currently in the field. When she returns, I’d like to meet with _all_ of you. Including your other friends.”

“Do we have to bring them in?” He asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to put them in more danger.”

“This may concern them as well, Nick. They have already stood out against Black Claw. I don’t think they will be able to just retreat.”

“…Okay. Let us know when.”

“I will. And I will see what Eve would like to do regarding this…former friend.”

“Thanks. I’m just about to see what damage she’s done—she broke into my home.”

“…Well, is she looking for a job? To get a drop on you is quite impressive,” he said dryly.

“Ha ha…shit,” he said, opening the elevator to see that while most things were fine, the door to the tunnel was open.

“Nick?”

“I gotta call you back!” he hanged up and raced over, looking down. “Audrey? Audrey, are you there?!”

“N-Nick?” she sobbed echoing up to him.

He sighed and quickly grabbed the flashlight he kept in the table drawer nearby, climbing over and starting down. “I’m here, Audrey, I’m coming.”

“Nick, watch out!”

He got to the bottom to hear rushing footsteps and see the shoes coming towards him. He quickly jumped back up, grabbing the rungs of the ladder before they kicked at him. Growling, looked down the tunnel to see her huddled up near the door. “Audrey, are you okay?”

She moved a little and he grimaced when he saw she was bruised and had a bloody lip. “Th-these things kicked me! They tried to get on my feet!” She screamed when they started coming for her again.

Nick jumped back down and took off his jacket rushing over to throw it over them. They struggled, but he got them under him and quickly knotted the jacket up. Audrey sobbed, shaking. “It’s okay,” he said comfortingly. “It’s okay, I’ve got them. Can you climb out of here?”

She nodded and quickly went to the ladder. Nick went with her and when she was halfway up he tossed the shoes out of his jacket. The rolled, but then skittered up and tried to get to him before he quickly climbed up again. They kicked and hopped, angry it seemed at being left down there again. But he closed the door quickly and sighed.

Audrey backed away, looking at him and the door in a near breakdown. “What the hell were those things?!”

“It’s…a long story,” Nick sighed.

“What the hell do you mean a long story?! You have living shoes in a-a secret tunnel?!”

“…Kind of?” he winced.

“Kind of? Kind of?! They kicked the crap out of me!” she gestured, winching at a bruise on her cheek. “What kind of freak are you?”

“Well what were you doing down there?” he shot back.

She flinched, realizing she was caught. “I…I heard banging…I thought it might be Juliette.”

Nick stared at her, trying to keep his temper even as it burned inside him like a furnace. “You thought I locked _Juliette_ , down there?”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“That I was telling the truth and Juliette left me and never came back!”

“Why would I believe that?” she hissed.

“Audrey, I—we were friends! Did I ever seem like the type of man that would do that?”

“You didn’t seem the type to have possessed shoes either! What the hell is that? Did those things hurt her? Did something happen to her?”

“I…Yes, but she’s not dead and it was…complicated,” he sighed.

She stared at him, looking close to bolting, a few tears in her eyes. “You keep saying you didn’t do anything to her but where is she?” she said, her voice wavering.

“She’s gone.”

Audrey jumped and turned to look at the elevator at the same time Nick did. Neither had heard it coming up—maybe it had been while they were down in the tunnels—but in it was Eve. She was dressed in black from head to toe and left the wigs off so that her red hair was swept into a bun with a stick-peg holder.

Audrey’s jaw dropped and she turned to her, hopeful but shell-shocked. “Juliette?”

“No,” Eve said, walking forward. “Juliette is gone. I’m Eve.”

“…What? No, you’re…you’re Juliette,” she said, quickly walking to her and hugging her. “I’d know you anywhere!”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” she said adamantly. “You’re my best friend, don’t say I don’t know you!” Eve’s face didn’t register any emotion and Audrey frowned more. “What’s wrong with you? Where have you been, I’ve been so worried, Jules—”

Eve reached up and set a hand on the side of her face. While it might’ve seemed tender, the way Audrey’s face slackened and her eyes grew dim was not. “Listen close…eight months ago, Juliette Silverton ran off with another man and has not contacted anyone since. You occasionally see her living it up on social media, but she won’t contact you back and has blocked you. You’re forgetting her face slowly. Nick Burkhardt has done his best to move on in the months since and you don’t have any ill will towards him. In one hour you are going to wake up after having a nasty fall down the stairs at home and won’t remember anything to do with Nick’s home or anything else you’ve seen here today.”

“…Jul…”

She stared at her a moment then sighed and took her hand away. “Goodbye, Audrey.”

Audrey’s eyes rolled back and she nearly fell but Nick caught her. “I…what did you do?”

“I altered her memory.”

“…You can do that?”

“I can. I did it to a majority of your old friends over the last few months. Did you think all of them just bought the “Juliette ran off and I don’t know where she is” so well?”

“…Why?”

“It’s better for me they forget. I don’t need them recognizing this face, looking for her or making things difficult. That it benefitted you was more of a side effect.”

Nick frowned and hauled Audrey up. “Why didn’t you do it to Audrey before?”

“…Just an oversight,” she said.

He looked at her suspiciously. “Oversight?”

“Yes. Oversight. You should take her to the doctor now. Why is she bruised so much?”

“You don’t think it was me?” he grunted, carrying her to the elevator.

“No…you wouldn’t do that, I’m sure.”

“…We have a case with cursed items. A pair of shoes I have hidden did it.”

“…Still never a dull moment, huh?” she said. There was still no emotion in her voice, not even a dry humor.

“No…what are you doing here anyway?”

“I was nearby, already driving back from downtown where I was trying to pick up intel on Black Claw. I made a detour when Meisner called me. He said you might be in trouble so I came over. Might’ve broken a few traffic laws.”

“…You came to save me?”

“We still need you to stop Black Claw.”

“Right,” he sighed. When they got down to the garage, he put Audrey into his car. “…Thank you. For this.”

“It needed to be done.” She moved to head for the door that led to her car but paused. “Sloane is living with you?”

“Uh…yeah. How did you…?”

“I saw some of her things around.”

“Yeah. She’s still on the case right now.”

She nodded slightly. “I don’t think she’d want to see me around. Perhaps best not to tell her.”

“…I’m not keeping things from her,” he frowned.

“…Do what you want then.” She headed out the door and Nick sighed. It felt a bit like she was testing him, but he had no idea why or if he passed or failed. Audrey groaned slightly and he got into his car to drive Audrey to the doctor’s office.

\----------------

“You let Nick go on his own?” Monroe asked. Hank and Sloane had gone to the shop with their laptops to keep researching in case they had to look up anything weird. They caught Monroe and Rosalee up on what had happened that morning while also pulling up a few previous files.

“I’m not too concerned—Audrey’s not wesen and she hesitated to use a taser. She’s not a hardened killer,” Sloane sighed. “I’m more concerned with the psycho trying to kill people and sew mouths shut.”

“Fair enough…you got pretty close to him though, you sure you didn’t see his face?”

“He’s got a lot of fancy accessories,” Sloane said morosely. “An invisibility coat and a weird hat. I was able to destroy the scarf. But I’m not finding any other possible suspects—most everyone else that hated Lydia Graham have moved on. So it’s gotta be someone close to this rec center. Why else kill Rodney?” Hank hummed in agreement and Sloane arched her brow. Standing, she walked over to see what he was reading. “You’re still looking up David Keeler?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Call it a gut feeling. The fact that his picture was untouched just…strikes me as weird. I mean, we know from CCTV that it was Rodney that tipped them all off. By why not his?”

“I mean…he wasn’t family? He died at the Regal. Maybe he felt bad?” Monroe said.

“Some were just of events at the Regal, no family in them, and he still broke them.” He pulled up another window that had some old pictures of a fair-sized pool with an iron fence around it and a building for changing and showers. “I looked up the old case. Their father said that he was sure he’d locked the fence around the pool—he’d put it up to keep animals out. And it was locked when they went to went to check around 11 before closing and finding Keeler’s body. So he didn’t know how a seven-year-old managed to sneak in.”

“Admittedly, a bit unlikely…” she said, looking over the various photos. She frowned at the one of David’s body. He was so small, wearing blue trunks that looked too big for him.

“He was so young,” Rosalee said sadly.

“Yeah…I think they might’ve said it was an accident too quick though.”

“What do you mean?” Monroe asked, looking at Hank.

“Well, Another weird thing was they found a lot of wet prints around the pool. They couldn’t get a proper shot or reference for them so they assumed David started in the shallows, almost left, and then tried again before being unable to get back to the edge.”

“…You think otherwise?”

He sighed a bit. “…I think someone might’ve been there with him. Look.” He brought up a photo, showing some of the nearby chairs. “There’s four towels on that chair…”

“…Four towels. For one kid?” Sloane asked.

“Yeah…I think someone opened that pool for David. Maybe more than one someone.”

“How’d they miss that?” Monroe asked.

He sighed. “20 years ago…I don’t know. Investigations have changed a lot.”

“But they had eyes,” Sloane said snidely. Hank couldn’t disagree. “Schuler said he was close with David…Like a brother.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I mean, he kept flirting, it was…uncomfortable.”

“Flirting?” Rosalee said, looking at her.

“Yeah. He sent her flowers at the precinct,” Hank said.

“Wow, that’s…ballsy,” Monroe said. “I mean, sending the detective on the murder case you and a client are suspects in flowers?”

“He offered me a sushi dinner too,” she said, smiling wryly.

“…Nick probably didn’t like that,” Rosalee said.

Sloane frowned. “No. He called me unprofessional.”

“No he didn’t,” Hank said quickly. “He was talking about Schuler, I’m positive.”

She hummed, sitting down. “Yeah, well. The guy is kind of creepy. Too persistent. Tried to get me to watch an old thriller too—then said he’d just loan it to me. …It was about a child murderer actually,” she said, gears turning.

“That is kind of a weird thing to suggest watching,” Rosalee said. “What was it?”

“Uh, it was called _M_ ,” she said.

“Oh! Actually, that is a really good movie,” Monroe said. “German, 1931, directed by Fritz Lang, starring Peter Lorre, before they emigrated to avoid the Nazis. It actually is more about catching the murderer, played by Peter Lorre. He’s like a compulsive serial killer and the whole city is in an uproar. Then a blind guy realizes it’s him and he writes “M” on his hand in chalk and manages to take him with it, so that the police and the gangsters trying to find him can.”

“…Okay, bit more interesting,” she admitted.

“How does the blind guy know it’s him?” Hank asked curiously.

“Oh, Hans—Peter Lorre’s character—does this really creepy thing—he whistles,” he said, getting into it.

Sloane and Hank’s eyes widened and they turn more towards him. “Whistles?”

“Yeah.”

“Whistles what?” Hank asked.

“Uh…it was _Hall of the Mountain King._ ” Both of them looked at one another before quickly standing to put their jackets on. “Guys?”

“Thank you, Monroe!” Hank said.

“Yes, thank you!” Sloane said, rushing to the door.

He looked at his wife, blinking. “Uh…I guess they figured something out?”

“Yep. I figured something out too,” she smiled. Monroe looked at her curiously but she didn’t elaborate.

They got to Schuler’s house quickly enough and went to knock on the door. They knocked again after a few moments and then looked at one another. “Mr. Schuler?” Sloane called. There was no answer and she sighed and pulled out her phone to call him.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Schuler? It’s Detective Larson. I came over to try and talk to you about something.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m out right now. Some business to take care of.”

“Darren? We’re waiting!” she heard Gerald say.

“I’ve got to go actually—but please call again.” He hanged up and she frowned at it and sighed.

“Not being so eager now?”

“No…I heard Gerald’s voice though,” she said.

“…Shit!” He said, heading for the car. “If he’s killed one brother, what’s stopping him from killing another?”

Sloane quickly followed him, jumping into the car to get to Gerald’s house. It wasn’t far taking a back route, but his car was out of his driveway. “Dammit!”

“I’ll put an APB out,” Hank said, grabbing his phone.

“…Head for the Recreation Center. I feel like that’s where Gerald would be.”

Hank nodded, turning to head out while he called in to the station.

Meanwhile, Nick was just getting Audrey settled at the doctor’s office. She was groggy after getting out of the car and he helped her up to the emergency room. “I found her like this at the bottom of the stairs,” Nick said, helping her into a wheelchair. “She was conscious so I thought I’d just bring her over but she lost it a little on the way.”

“Are you a friend?” a nurse asked, shining a light in her eyes.

“I…we used to be,” he sighed. “I was passing by and saw her at the bottom of the steps near her apartment.”

“Nick?” she said, looking up.

He hesitated, worried a little. “Yeah, it’s me Audrey…”

“I’m sorry…about Juliette,” she said, wincing when the Nurse checked her. “Never told you that. Thanks for getting me here.”

Nick smiled a bit sadly and nodded. “Yeah, no problem…”

His phone went off in his pocket and he pulled it out to see Adalind’s name pop up. “I’m sorry, I’m a police detective and this is for a case…”

“We’ve got it from here,” the nurse nodded. Nick nodded and quickly answered and headed for the door as he answered the phone.

“Adalind?”

“Hey, I finally found something. Luckily my speed reading was still fine. I’ve found a contract in her stuff that’s a bit surprising to say the least.”

“How so?”

“Well, about 10 years ago, Gerald Wilks _and_ Rodney Wilks both signed half their shares to another party. Making them own a quarter each and this other party own half.”

Nick was surprised. “Wait…so…why hadn’t that come up in purchasing the property?”

“Well, Rodney didn’t disclose it I think to get more money out of Crown and Country—half is worth more than a quarter after all.”

“True…but what about Gerald? I mean, it would’ve come out in the inquest?”

“Not with Darren Schuler as his lawyer. Because he’s the one that now owns half of The Regal.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “He…what?”

“Yep. Lydia was looking into it, she knew something was up. She has a bunch of notes on it. She even found some money being sent to Darren even still…She’s got notes saying she thinks it’s blackmail.”

“Blackmail? Wait…Gerald said he heard Lydia and her employer arguing about a contract…”

“Probably this. It would put a serious wrench in Crown and Country’s plans for sure, because they’d have to redo a lot of work and renegotiate, but it was something she could definitely hold over Darren Schuler’s head.”

“But why didn’t Darren say anything earlier? When they propositioned Rodney?”

“Again, probably the blackmail thing. If he came forward it would create a lot of questions. But this file was hidden at the bottom of the box so I’m betting it’s got something to do with this.”

“Okay…that’s great, Adalind, thanks. I’ll let you know what happens.” He hanged up and then quickly dialed another number.

“Crown and Country, Portland office,” a woman answered.

“This is Detective Nick Burkhardt, I need to speak with Jensen Ulric. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry, Detective Burkhardt, but Mr. Ulric has gone to meet with someone.”

“Who?”

“Um, I’m not sure, it was rather impromptu. I think it was with the lawyer regarding the recreation center.”

Nick felt his heart lurch. “Where?”

“Um, I’m not sure—I-I think maybe the center itself?”

Nick hanged up and quickly ran to the car while dialing Hank’s number.

Hank got the call waiting while he was calling in the APB. They’d already arrived at the rec center and Sloane got out to look around. “I see Gerald’s car. I think that’s Darren’s too. I don’t know the Lexus…”

“Cancel that, I think we found them,” Hank said. He hanged up and looked at the car. “That’s Ulric’s…” They looked at one another and started up to the door while Hank looked at his phone. “I got a call from Nick, hold on.”

“Not sure waiting is in our best interest,” Sloane said, reaching up to try the door. “Door’s open.”

“Sloane,” Hank sighed as he called Nick back.

“Hank! Where are you?”

“We’re at the Regal Recreation Center. Trying to track down Schuler, found Gerald and Ulric here too—”

“Okay, wait for me! Adalind found something!”

They both jumped when they heard a scream coming from inside.

“We can’t wait!” Sloane rushed in, Hank rushing after her. Nick cursed on the other end and threw his phone onto the seat, driving even faster.

Sloane and Hank ran inside, sprinting to where they heard another scream echo down the hall. It was the tailoring room again. “Freeze!” Hank yelled.

Darren paused, looking up from a prone Ulric on the ground. His eyes were wide. “What? I—n-no, this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Get down on the ground!” Sloane ordered.

“I went to the restroom and ran back when I heard him screaming!”

“We said get down—” Hank said, only to shout when a green hat was thrown onto his head, which moved down over his eyes and tightened.

“Hank!” Sloane moved for him only to have to back away when a leather belt cracked at her like a whip. It moved for her and she fired at it with her gun only for it to dodge and then jumped up to wrap around her wrist and then around a nearby heavy table’s leg. The blow made her drop her gun. She tried to get her fingers into it and hissed as it tightened even more.

Hank was pulled back out of the room by the hat tugging his head and the door was slammed behind him. Then Gerald appeared, as if the air around him spat him out, having closed the door after hiding behind it. “Sorry, Detectives. I’m not quite ready yet.”

“You?” Sloane asked.

“Yes. Oh, don’t feel bad. I worked a little harder to throw suspicion onto Darren here.”

“I…what?” Darren asked, looking confused and freaked out.

“Oh, don’t be surprised, Darren,” he said darkly. “Did you really think I’d just keep laying down quietly and rolling over for you?”

“G-Gerald, c’mon…” he said, holding up his hand. “We’ve known each other for years, y-you’re like a father to me—”

“And you’d blackmail your own father?” he said, looking at him with a manic eye.

“Blackmail?” Sloane said. She looked at the door to see Hank jump up with the hat in his hands—and the hat kept trying to go for him like the mouth of a lamprey undulating towards him. She quickly looked back at Gerald. “Blackmail for what?”

“Gerald—” Darren started.

“No. Might as well say,” Gerald sighed. The affable gentleman persona was dropping more and more and he just looked like an angry animal finally getting out of the cage. “I’m thinking you probably guessed already.”

“…David Keeler?”

“Right in one,” he said, clapping his hands with a fake grin. “David…Poor David…”

“Poor David?” Darren said, standing up. “Is that what this was about? It was an accident!”

“Oh don’t start with that!” Gerald yelled. “It wasn’t an accident. It was _your_ fault. Rodney told me the truth when he was black-out drunk months ago.”

“What?” he said.

Gerald took the coat off, setting it over a chair. “We were all going to help David learn to swim. But I thought I’d give him a bit of help. You see, I can imbue my things with a bit of magic. Make them do what I want.”

“Handwerksburschen,” Sloane said, glaring.

Darren looked at her in confusion but Gerald smiled. Then he woged. The sketch she’d remembered from Nick’s book really didn’t do him justice. His skin became a more sallow and sunken, like a wax figure someone tried to mold by hand. His nose was thin but long—something that hadn’t looked right in the face on shot the sketch had been. She’d almost thought it was a bat’s nose but it was more like a an ac head in the middle of his face. He smiled, his teeth all needle sharp, and his eyes thin and beady. Darren screamed and backed away, tripping over Ulric on the ground and falling back against one of the wardrobes. The moment he did, one of the suits Gerald sewed grabbed him and wrapped around him like a straight-jacket, making him scream more.

“Oh do be quiet, Darren,” He said, speaking fine through his new appearance. He walked over and leaned down to Sloane. “You know, I had never actually seen a Grimm before. You were quite a shock for me the other night.” He jumped back when she swung at him. “Oh! So feisty too!”

“Untie me and I’ll show you feisty…”

“Not yet.” He woged back and looked at Darren. “As I was saying…I gave David a charm. We all made it for him. Something to make him swim well. “The Ultimate Swimmer”—stitching that in made it work. And boy did it work! You saw him! He swam like a fish! You saw! Say it!”

“Yes! Yes, I saw, I didn’t know how he did it! B-but I…that piece of cloth we made did that?”

“Yes. Rodney knew it was real too. I got our mother’s gifts, but not him, or our father. He was a jealous little man as well.” He sighed, and stretched his hands. “I can make anything. But I can’t fix stupid, and you got so very _stupid_! So selfish and jealous! And _Rodney._ Rodney told you about the charm when I went inside. You thought it was funny. You took the charm from David when he showed it to you and threw it in the pool and made him try to get it!”

“I…How was I supposed to know it was magic?!” he said, struggling to get out. “He swam fine before! I thought he’d just been acting for attention and then…”

“Yes…and then. And then he was dead and you ran off. You—both of you—let me believe for 20 years that he died because we were negligent! That my hands were dirty. You said you followed us in and then he went back because he forgot something and he must’ve slipped in! And then, _and then you blackmailed me!_ You said if I didn’t pay your way through law school, you would tell the whole world that he died because I’m the one that unlocked the pool! How bad it would look that I let a seven year old swim after dark. And when that wasn’t good enough, you made Rodney and me sign the rec center over to you! I’m sure Rodney didn’t expect you to turn on him too. But you just went ahead and ruined our lives!”

Darren choked as the suit tightened. “I…I’m…sorry…”

“Gerald, stop it!” Sloane said, pulling at the belt.

“No! He was planning to let me go bankrupt, get the rest of my shares of the center and then sell it at a higher price to this leech!” He kicked Ulric, smiling when he gasped and curled up more. “Damn nudist…”

“Please don’t kill me, Gerry,” Darren said, tearing up. “I j-just wanted a better life…”

“You think you deserve it?”

“And Mrs. Wright? Sloane said. “Did she deserve you did to her? Was that even necessary?”

“She saw me. Darren told me what you said. I thought sewing that busy-body’s mouth shut would send a message.”

“And you whistled that little tune to throw suspicion on Darren…”

He smiled. “One of his favorite movies…Ironic, given what he’s done. Maybe he always felt a little guilty. Then he tried to charm you.”

“It didn’t work,” she said.

“No. At least you have sense,” he said. He pulled out a large pair of tailor’s sheers. “Speaking of that movie though...” He waked over, taking the Darren’s hand. “Here’s a little gift for you.” Darren yelled as he took one sharp tip of the sheers and slowly carved an _M_ into his hand. “I know I’m not following the script exactly, but I hope this reminds you that this is your fault.”

“He didn’t force you to kill anyone!” Sloane said.

“But I wouldn’t be here, this desperate, if it wasn’t for him. Him and his _greed._ And you’ll be an unfortunate casualty…But first, the corporate leech.” He turned and started advancing on Ulric who was groaning and trying to come around with the scissors in a stabbing grip.

Sloane glared and then dug her fingers into the belt and pulled. It was harder than the scarf, and her fingers stung with the effort, but she could feel it giving way. Gerald shuddered and gasped, like his heart was being twisted, and rounded on her. “Stop that!” He raised the scissors, intending to strike her.

Moments earlier Nick had gotten to the center and rushed in to find Hank wrestling with the green hat in the hall. It moved like some sort of brain-sucking alien, flapping and trying to get to his head. Nick rushed over, drawing his gun. “Hank! Point it up!”

Hank saw him and did so and Nick aimed and shot twice, hitting the hat both times. It flopped to the floor.

Inside, Gerald gasped and staggered the moment the hat was shot, breathing hard. Sloane felt the belt loosen for just a moment and pulled her arm free quickly. She then stood and kicked Gerald back, making him topple over.

Nick and Hank kicked down the door then and rushed in. Nick rushed over to Sloane and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“My arm’s a bit sore…” she said, rubbing over where the belt had caused bruises.

They heard a gasp and looked over where Gerald was now lying on the on his back with the sheers in his side. The coat on the chair collapsed into dust, as did the belt on the floor as he shuddered and gasped. Darren was released from his suit shackles and collapsed, looking at Gerald with wide-eyed shock. Gerald stared back, shuddering. “I hope you never…know peace again,” he gasped out.

\---------------

They got the medics and the rest of the police over quickly enough. Darren was in shock, muttering about monsters and the like. He screamed when anyone tried to treat his hand. Gerald died fairly quickly, the scissors nicked his liver and he bled out on the shop floor. Practically everything in the room turned to dust then—whatever he made was tied to his own life it seemed. Hurting them hurt him, and when he died they just ceased to exist.

Ulric was confused when he woke up. He thought for sure he’d been dreaming because the suit on the mannequin in the corner punched him and he’d lost consciousness. He’d nearly started stripping at the ambulance before they managed to get him out of there.

Nick also explained what happened with Audrey when they got to the Spice Shop later that evening “Eve on top of the case summary.

“Eve helped you?” Rosalee asked, looking unsure. She was nursing Sloane’s arm, wrapping it up.

“I’m as surprised as you,” he said. “No matter what she says, I think she hesitated erasing Audrey’s memories because she was one of her best friends…Or Juliette’s.”

“…You think she’s still in there somewhere?” Sloane asked.

“…I don’t know,” he sighed. “The only thing I do know is they said Black Claw was working on something new and they’d come get us soon to discuss it.”

“Great,” Monroe sighed. “Well, we keep beating them. I’m sure we can do it one more time at least.”

Nick nodded, but couldn’t shake a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The next day, Sloane walked in and saw the flowers on her desk. Frowning, she picked them up and dumped them in the trash, setting the vase on the counter for anyone who wants it.

“Sorry your new gentleman caller ended up being a blackmailer,” Hank said.

“Among other things…” Nick added.

“Like I said, I wasn’t even interested,” she sighed. “I get the feeling he probably was hoping to get more information out of me rather than actual romance anyway. Also, what kind of guy recommends a murder thriller for a date to someone he barely knows?”

“Yeah, we get enough murder dates as it is,” Hank said.

“Yeah. I think for now I’m just going to say no to love.”

Nick looked up. “You…are?”

“Yeah. Just kind of messes things up anyway,” she sighed, not looking at him.

Hank looked at Nick who was looking a bit disheartened and groaned inwardly. _So, so dumb._

_\---------------------_

**_Map of the Seven Knights & Key Move_ **

**\---------------**

It was maybe a week later when Rosalee called Sloane early in the morning. She’d been sleeping in her own bed again but grunted at the sound and fumbled to get her phone and answer. “Rosalee…it’s my day off…” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Sloane, but Monroe and I need you to come over ASAP. Nick too.”

She sat up a little bit. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly, just—Monroe got a call from his uncle in Leipzig last night. He has some _rare books_ you two might be interested in.”

Sloane’s brow rose. “I…really?”

“Really. He sent pictures, and they look real.”

“…I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Okay.”

Sloane hanged up and jumped out of bed, rushing to get her clothes on.

“Sloane? Everything okay?” Nick said, starting to open the door.

“I’m dressing!”

He quickly shut it again, blushing when he caught a flash of her with her pajamas off. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine. Go get dressed, we’re going to Monroe and Rosalee’s!

“Why?”

“They think they have a contact that can get us some Grimm books!”

Nick’s eyes widened and he nearly opened the door again but stopped himself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously! She’s got pictures and everything. This might be our chance to start building our collections, till we can find your trailer.”

“O-okay, I’ll get dressed.” He ran to do so as well, feeling the excitement.

They were at their friend’s house right at that thirty-minute marker. Rosalee answered the door with a bright smile. “Hey. I'm really glad you came right over. This is some amazing stuff.”

They walked in and Monroe smiled and showed them a photo-album. The pictures were from the eighties it looked like, of a man with curly hair and glasses. Most were of him surrounded by antiques and leatherbound books as he examined them. “This is Uncle Felix, the guy who called.”

“He's Blutbader?” Nick asked.

“Yep. More of a Book-bader. Not really a physical guy.”

“What did he send?” Sloane asked, nearly bouncing on her toes.

“That's on the computer. Follow me.” He set the album down and led them to their dining room where his laptop was on the table. “He said he was doing an appraisal. Uncle Felix is called on a lot to, like, appraise old books or book collections. He works for museums and collectors all over Europe, and I got to tell you, these books look really old. Some of these Wesen, I don't think I've ever even heard of them.”

“Me either,” Rosalee nodded.

“He knew what the books were?” Nick asked. Sloane sat down to look at the photos, clicking threw depictions of various wesen. She did recognize some, but she had to admit a few others had her stumped.

“He did,” Monroe sighed. “Look, he's a smart book dealer. He knows the value of these books is obviously gonna be different for a Grimm than it'd be for someone who thinks they're just, you know, fairy tales.”

“How did he get these?” Sloane asked, looking over one illustration of a mantis-like wesen.

“Did your uncle know a Grimm?”

“Not that I know of, but look, having a relationship with a Grimm is not exactly something you want to talk about in public, especially not in the old country.”

“Could it be one…died?” she said delicately.

“Hey, not by his hands if they did. Again, not the most physical of Blutbader. Most exercise he gets is climbing a library ladder.”

“Do you trust him?” Nick asked.

“You mean do I think this stuff is real? Hell yeah, it's real! Uncle Felix wouldn't touch a forgery.”

“Did he say how much he wants?”

“No, I think he wants to find out if you're interested first. Either of you. Look, I'm not trying to pressure you. I'm just saying this stuff looks amazing.”

“Especially after all you lost when your collection was burned,” she said to Sloane.

“And with the trailer MIA.”

“Exactly,” she nodded.

“So if you're interested...”

“I'm interested,” Sloan nodded. “But why does your uncle know about _us_ if it’s a bit taboo?”

Monroe blushed and looked chagrinned. “My…mother may have mentioned you both. Especially since you let her read about great uncle Olaf.”

\-----------------------

Meisner watched Adalind cook for a few moments while Kelly was cleaning Diana for Dinner. “…Are you alright? You seem…distracted.”

She was quiet a moment before sighing. “Today would’ve been my mother’s birthday…”

“Ah…I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not…I still feel a bit conflicted. On the one hand she was my mother and I do have good memories with her. Like learning my first spells and going shopping for my prom and little moments where we felt normal. On the other, she was a ruthless hexenbiest who tried to raise me to be just as cutthroat, was so vain she seduced the son of one of her best friends that I also happened to be in love with at the time, and who kicked me out when I was at my most vulnerable and lost my powers,” she said, chopping harder and harder as she went over the bad.

“…A complicated relationship indeed,” he said, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. Like…I miss her, but I feel like I don’t miss her enough considering she was my mother…”

“Perhaps you have come to accept her death in some ways as well,” he said. “For the first few years after my parents died, I felt awful on important dates like this. Then…eventually I was sad, but it didn’t consume me. I think that’s good.”

“…I didn’t realize both your parents were dead,” she said softly.

He smiled sadly. “Yes. But not of anything so tragic. My mother was ill and my father was much older than her. They had me later in life and…” he shrugged.

“…I remember you mentioned a girlfriend before too.”

“Ah…yes. That one still does hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, kicking herself.

“No, no, it’s good. Not the hurt, but…I have not talked of her in a long time,” he said.

“…What was her name?”

“…Serena. Serena Wagner.” He looked down into his cup and sighed. “I was special forces in Germany. She was a horse trainer. She got hired on at one of the Royal’s stables and one of them, a prince named Wesley, fell for her. It was not hard, she was very charming. Very kind…”

“…I take it he tried to seduce her?”

“Yes. And when that didn’t work…” He took a sip of his tea again and coughed. “He egged me on one day when I came to visit till I took a swing at him. Then he had me arrested, and beaten. He told Serena he would have me killed unless she ‘persuaded’ him to stop.”

“Oh God,” she whispered, her insides curling away at the thought.

“I begged her not to, but she agreed. But he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more. She resisted…and ultimately, she killed him.”

She blinked and looked at him. “I…she killed him?”

“Yes. She’d hidden her hook knife—a knife for use in trimming horse’s hooves—on her. When he tried to keep her there, force her to do more, she stabbed him.” He stared at the cup. “The Verrat tore her apart. Dumped her body in my cell with me in the dungeon. I screamed and then I broke out and killed them all…took her with me to have her buried properly. Then I found the Laufer and...”

Adalind set the knife down and quickly went over to him. Meisner was surprised when she hugged him. “I’m so…so sorry…”

He was surprised before realizing he’d started crying. He rubbed at his face, sighing softly. “You do not have to apologize…”

“I feel like someone should,” she said.

He was quiet before reaching up and patting her head gently. “Thank you…”

“Meisy?”

He looked up and smiled as Kelly and Diana came down the hall. “Hello princess…”

“Meisy sad?” she asked, her brow puckered in worry.

“A little, yes. But I’m feeling better. Your mother made me feel better.”

Adalind blushed but smiled and patted his back.

\--------------------

That evening, Monroe called Nick with a surprise: His uncle Felix had come to Portland. He was extremely adamant on meeting Nick then and there and had even brought a book with him.

They headed over right away. Monroe opened the door and let both of them in to meet a man that had rounded softly with age, his gray hair receding over his crown and his eyes behind thick bifocals. He tensed when they walked in. “What is this? Why are there two?” he said, his voice deep and his accent thick but still making his words clear.

“Uncle Felix, these are our friends Nick and Sloane,” Monroe said soothingly. “They’re, uh…both Grimm.”

“Both? Two? Two Grimms?!” He grabbed his glasses off, his eyes turning red and he woged into a Blutbad. He bared his fangs, snarling at both of them.

Nick and Sloane both backed away. “Hey! Calm down!” Nick ordered.

“Monroe, you said he wasn’t this kind of Blutbad!” Sloane barked, looking ready to fight him.

“He’s not! Uncle Felix, stop!” Monroe said, getting between them. He held his arms out, keeping them both away from each other as Felix growled and looked ready to attack. “These are my _friends!_ And he is my _uncle!_ ” he added, looking reproachfully at Sloane.

Felix quieted down and then woged back, panting. “I…apologize…”

“…Me too,” Sloane said, easing back. “I thought Alice told you about us?”

“I think something was lost in translation,” he sighed “I thought there was _one_ of you. Not two.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said. “Well, we’re both the Grimms here. So we’d both like to see this book you have.”

He nodded slowly. “It is over here…” He gestured to the coffee table, where an old leather book was open. Sloane and Nick both went to look at it, Nick reaching for it before Felix stopped him. “Ah, but do not touch it with your fingers! It is too old. _Handschuhe_.”

“Huh?” Nick asked.

“Gloves,” Sloane said, taking one pair from Rosalee. They were white cotton, made to handle the old textiles. Monroe gave Nick his and he slipped them on.

“Careful,” Felix said, as they leaned down to look the book over.

Sloane leaned in, examining the leather and the pages and ink. “This does look real…”

“I would not come all this way to trick you,” Felix said.

“You have more?” Nick asked.

“There are 20.”

They all froze and looked up in shock. “20 Grimm books?” Rosalee gasped.

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Where?” Sloane asked, trying to hide her excitement.

“I brought them with me.”

She looked at Nick who nodded. “This definitely belonged to a Grimm…”

“Ja, I believe it did.”

“How did you get it?”

“Did you kill him?” Sloane asked suspiciously.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, shaking his head fervently. “No, I... I am not violent, despite what just happened. That was more a defensive feeling…No, these books belonged to Josef Nebojsa. He lived in Prague. He was very old. Uh, he died of natural causes. I was brought in to assess the books by an antiques dealer friend of mine. They were hidden in the attic of the house.”

“Then Josef must have been a Grimm or a relative of one,” Rosalee said.

“I mean, he could have inherited them, had no idea what they were,” Nick said, nodding.

“That’s likely or he would’ve passed them on to a Library if he had no other relatives,” Sloane said.

“However he got them is not important. The fact that they exist is a miracle. I should have destroyed them, probably, but I can't; they're too rare. It would be like destroying the Magna Carta or the original pages of Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales." I've devoted my whole life to the written word. I cannot be the one to erase any of them from the world. I've spent my entire life defending the imagination, the thoughts, and the passions of a writer who would commit these words to the page...” He paused and looked around as everyone stared at him. Monroe was smiling fondly, as was Rosalee, but Nick and Sloane just blinked at him. “I am sorry. I get carried away.”

“S’okay. Honestly, better than a DNA test to know you’re Monroe’s uncle,” Sloane said. Monroe quirked a brow at her. “How much do you want for the books?”

“Well, handling such material is very dangerous. But in spite of the fact that they are priceless, I will let you have them for $100,000.”

Monroe’s smile faded and everyone’s jaw dropped. “$100,000? Are you serious?” Nick said.

“My antiques dealer friend has already been killed! And whoever did it must know that I have these books. Here, you can keep the book I brought,” he said, picking up a small briefcase and his coat. “I will contact you in 24 hours for your decision.”

“Uncle Felix, that's a lot of money,” Monroe said, following him to the door.

“It is the best I can do,” he whispered back. He opened the door and left and walked out.

“There's no way I can pull together $100,000 in 24 hours…” Nick sighed, pacing in frustration.

“But if all the books look like this one...” Rosalee said.

“And what if they're destroyed? Which is what'll happen if they fall into certain Wesen hands,” Monroe said.

“I can do it.”

They all paused and looked down at Sloane as she was looking over the book.

“…Sorry, you can get $100,000 in 24 hours?” Monroe said.

“Yeah. Granted it’s harder with the Library closed, but I can manage it through the banks. Unless he wants cash, that could be a little harder…But I spent more buying the house from Rosalee.”

“…Sloane, how much money do you have?” Rosalee asked.

She blinked then grabbed a nearby notepad and pen, doing some quick math before holding it up to them. “Not including assets like my houses and the land in Wildred…”

“…Damn…” Monroe said.

“Yeah. I kept putting money away while…well, hunting, but it was harder to access. So it just kind of built up. I had like five different accounts.”

“So you think you can do it?”

“Yeah…”

“…What’s wrong?” Rosalee asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly, just…I feel like I know that name. Nebojsa…I think Dierdre mentioned it once…”

“…Well, that should mean they’re real, right?” Nick said.

“Yeah. But I feel like it was important. His name…” She sighed and leaned back on the couch. “I don’t remember why though!”

“Well, maybe we can find something out, while you get the money together,” Rosalee said.

\------------------

Things took a tragic turn the next day.

While Sloane was working to get the money situation handled and Nick caught Hank up to speed, Rosalee studied up on Nebojsa. She traced his name and lineage back to the crusades and the knights templar themselves, and a town near the Black Forest in Germany. It made the books all the more desirable. The tragedy struck however when they were called to a murder scene at a hotel. Sloane left the banks to do their thing so she could join Nick and Hank. Wu said things were weird in how their victim looked like he used his teeth to defend himself—but that was explained when they saw it was actually Felix. He laid dead by the side of the hotel bed; his throat slit. The room was tossed like a huge fight had raged, papers and furniture thrown everywhere.

Nick was the one to call Monroe and break the news. He asked if he was okay to come down and help them and he did, but he still teared up when he saw him lying dead on the floor.

“I can't believe this,” he sobbed, shaking his head and trying to keep from crying. “I guess 24 hours was more time than he had…I'm gonna have to call my mom and...I'm sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

“It's okay,” Nick said.

“I’m sorry, Monroe,” Sloane said sincerely. “It shouldn’t have turned out this way…”

“Yeah,” he sniffed. “So I guess whoever did this got the books too.”

“I'm not so sure,” Nick said. “We talked to the manager. Your uncle didn't have a rental car. He arrived by cab.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with the books?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“Each one of those books weighs nearly five pounds,” Hank said. “You just don't cart around 100 pounds of books on your back. Your uncle may never have had the books in this room.”

Monroe looked around, nodding slowly. “Well, whoever killed him, he fought back, right?”

“That's right, yeah. Looks like he put up a hell of a fight,” Wu said.

“Yeah! Uncle Felix got a piece of him...Which means the guy is wounded,” he said with dawning realization. “Right? I mean, he didn't walk out of here like he walked in.”

“Oh, he didn't walk out. He went out the window,” Hank said. Monroe looked at the window where he walked to, nodding to the bloodied curtains and showing how he’d ripped the window open. “We'll get some good prints.”

“We got to find this bastard,” Monroe growled.

“I want to know how they knew about the books in the first place and that he was here,” Sloane said. “This doesn’t feel like some kind of rare book turf war or wesen wanting to destroy Grimm books just because. Someone’s targeting these books. Someone with time, money and resources.” The others nodded, knowing that was right.

They paused when they heard a phone ringing. Nick knelt down and looked under the bed, locating an old flip phone. He looked at Monroe who shrugged slightly, unsure. Nick flipped it open and excepted the call. “Hello?”

“Felix? Heir Herman. Ich bin zu deinem Laden gegangen. Da drin ist alles ganz durcheinander. Hat es bei Dir einen Einbruch gegeben, Oder...”

Nick blinked and looked at Sloane and Monroe. Monroe cleared his throat, looking close to crying but managing to keep it together. “Uh, momentan kann Felix leider nicht ans Telefon komm.”

“Ach so. Danke.”

The man on the other end hanged up and Nick looked at him. “What'd he say?”

“He said he went to Felix's shop, and it was, like, trashed like somebody broke in…”

Nick frowned and handed the phone to Wu into a evidence bag. “Find every phone call made and received from this phone in the last 72 hours.”

“Yep!” he said, heading out.

They headed back to the precinct to start trying to dig up more information. The phone was damaged in the fight, so Wu pulled the SIM card for the tech gurus to check while Sloane was quickly typing away.

“Not getting any hits on the prints. I'm gonna check Interpol,” Hank said.

“There were three different blood types in the hotel room,” Nick confirmed.

Monroe, who was sticking close, looked at him. “So there was more than one attacker?”

“At least two,” Nick nodded. “Sloane? What are you working on?”

“Something Felix said bothered me. He said the antiques dealer he was working with was killed in the house the books were,” she said.

“You think it’s the same guys?” Monroe asked.

“I think it’s more than that, unfortunately,” she sighed. She gestured and they all came over. “I managed to find the news story. This was on the wall.”

They all sucked in a breath when they saw the four lined claw mark across the wall of the house. “Dammit…Black Claw,” Nick sighed.

“So this is what they were planning?” Monroe said.

“No, I doubt this is a grand plan,” Sloane said. “But I also think there must be something in that collection someone high in their ranks wants. They could have easily found out your uncle got the books from the dealer and followed him here.”

“You know, I called my uncle at his bookshop, and it was late, but he always works late. And somebody else answered the phone,” Monroe said, remembering the strange phone call.

“You tell them anything?” Hank asked.

“Just my name…Oh, God, you don't think they could find him because I made that phone call,” he gasped, guilt washing over him.

“Don't go there,” Hank said. “They could've gotten a lot of information about your uncle.”

“If their as well connected as they seem, they probably searched his name on flights out or something,” Sloane nodded. “I think he knew that too…I understand why he wanted the money so fast now. He probably figured he had to go into hiding quick.”

“Well, if these guys are Black Claw, maybe HW's got something on them,” Nick said.

“Well, your uncle bloodied them up, so... one or both of them could be needing a little medical help,” Wu suppled.

“All right. Wu and I will check hospitals,” Hank said.

“We’ll contact Meisner,” Sloane nodded, all of them standing up.

\------------

Going to HW, they didn’t meet up with Eve. That was something Sloane was grateful for because she still wasn’t sure what she would do to her. But happily, Trubel had come back. And she was just as excited for the idea of finding the books as they were. They also did indeed know about Josef Nebojsa’s death and the deaths that followed, and had names of the killers: Krisztian Ajandok and Oscar Vasicek. Monroe growled softly seeing their faces on screen from the information Hadrian’s Wall could gather. They managed to figure out they rented a Ford Expedition that had not been returned yet, and therefore they were likely still in the city.

Unfortunately, Hank and Wu were too late to stop the death of two EMTs when they were called by a man with an accent to treat a “dog bite”.

Wu did find out though that the last call Felix received was from a shipping company. He was expecting a shipment to come in that afternoon or evening but couldn’t say more without a shipping number. It was easy to deduce that this shipment must’ve been the books. However, the company was also closed now. They figured Ajandok and Vasicek must be planning to break in to steal the books. They thanked Meisner and headed out as quick as they could. Trubel wanted to join, but Meisner refused to let her put herself at risk over the books. Sloane and Nick were fine with that.

Getting to the shipping company’s warehouse, they found the Expedition parked around back. They also found the security guard dead just inside, his throat ripped out. When they heard a sound from the back, Nick ducked under the bar flap, Sloane jumped over it, and Monroe simply lifted it to step through and set it back into place. But the moment they were in the warehouse, he took off despite their hisses to wait. He found the two men, who’d pulled out a crate and opened it. Inside was a large chest, sturdy with studded straps all over it. Monroe woged and confronted them and the fight began as they woged into Anubis. They moved with practice precision, leaping and running to confuse before one tackled Monroe just as Nick and Sloane caught up. One tackled Nick but Sloane didn’t even have to get him—Monroe had dispatched his assailant and then pulled the other one off Nick, ripping his throat out. For a moment the sight of a Blutbad with bloody teeth made Sloane want to vomit, cry and fight all at once—she could feel her eyes hurting. But she closed them and looked away while Monroe spat blood. _It’s just Monroe…he avenged his uncle. It’s…fine…_

They got the chest out of there and back to the shop as quick as they could and Sloane dialed a number to come stage the area for them so that it’d be like they were never there. Once at the shop, with Rosalee, Hank, Wu, and Trubel joining them, Monroe showed off his lock-picking skills and got the chest open. Inside were the stacks of twenty books and they all breathed a sigh of relief to see them.

“Lets get them out of there,” Nick said.

“Careful,” Sloane nodded, gently started to take them out and set them on the nearby table in the shop’s basement. AS they did it was obvious they didn’t take up the whole space of the chest. Monroe noticed a notch in the bottom—natural looking but showing something was beneath it. He pulled the board out and they all gasped when they saw crossbow bolts beneath it.

“There’s a lot more stuff in here than just books,” Trubel said, smiling like it was Christmas.

They took the rest of the slats out while Nick and Sloane came back over. She gasped when she saw it all—axes, crossbows, a morning star flail attached to a spike club, and several other odds and ends including rare ingredients. “Oh…wow,” she said. She gently picked up the crossbow looking it over. “This is old…but it’s solid,” she said, weighting it in her hands. “A little oil, some minor mending, this thing will fire beautifully.”

“That’s incredible,” Rosalee said.

“Guess you got to start your collection again,” Nick smiled.

“What about you?” she asked, frowning.

“Mine’s still out there. I mean, I’d appreciate borrowing this of course, but I still want my trailer back. You…need these more than I do.”

She smiled, leaning in to hug him. “Thank you…”

He blushed but smiled and Rosalee and Hank smiled as well.

They started looking through everything, taking stock of their find. Monroe sat examining the chest itself. “Something about this lock...It's bigger than it needs to be.”

Rosalee was looking at everything and shaking her head. “I still don't understand why they would kill people for all this. Its only real value is to a Grimm.”

“Black Claw is trying to destroy everything that has to do with Grimms,” Trubel said darkly.

“Hey, wait... Wait a minute. Look at this one. It's not like the others. It's like some kind of... family tree book of ancestry,” Hank said.”

Everyone but Monroe, who was tinkering with the lock, went over to look. “That's not a... a regular family tree. It's only following a few individuals from generation to generation,” Rosalee said, frowning at the names.

“And some of them just dead end,” Trubel added.

“What's the name of the guy your uncle got the books from?” Nick asked.

“Uh, Josef Nebojsa,” Trubel said, remembering before Monroe.

Nick tapped the top of the page. “It's the same last name…Go to the end.” Hank unfolded the page slowly and then nodded when he found _Josef Nebojsa, 1919_ written at the end. “There he is, Josef Nebojsa,” Nick said.

“Oh, my God,” Wu gasped. “They're all Grimms.”

“That's why this is worth killing for,” Rosalee nodded. “Everyone in this book is a Grimm…”

“If they got this, they could find us and kill us a lot easier,” Sloane frowned. “This is way more dangerous than I thought.”

“See if Burkhardt's in there,” Monroe said, taking a small screwdriver to the inside of the lock.

“No, it would be, uh, my mother's maiden name, Kessler,” Nick said.

“Hey, I think I just... saw a Kessler. Here,” Hank said, turning it to a page. A coat of arms was in the corner, a shield divided into four quarters with a sword, crossed arrows, a key and an axe within the squares. He opened the insert, scanning the names. “Was Walter your grandfather?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He traced the lines down, laughing a little in surprise. “There's Aunt Marie. There's my mom…and some others I don’t know…And there I am.”

“How does he know?” Sloane frowned.

“I don’t know…”

“Maybe I’m in there,” Trubel said, itching with curiosity.

“…Is Galperin in there?”

Hank flipped through slowly and then came to a stop. “Yeah…Here it is. But it says “Heilbrunn” too…”

Sloane frowned and looked at it. The coat of arms showed a shield decorated by a silver inverted crescent moon, framed in ivy leaves and two spears. “I guess it got retranslated…”

“Yours goes back far,” Nick said. “But…not a lot of names.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes I’m told. And old name but a long and thin bloodline.” She paused and set a finger on _Rebecca Galperin, 1923._ Then followed it down to _Dierdre_ and there _Larson_ was crossed out in favor of _Galperin, 1960._ Then she froze. “…Wh…what the hell?”

“Sloane?” Nick asked, leaning over with her. He followed her gaze and was surprised to see the line from Dierdre came down from a fork from not one but two names. _Egon Ketterling_ _, 1938,_ and _Vernon Averill_ , _1955_ were both written by Dierdre’s name with the line between them and then extending down to _Sloane Galperin-Larson, 1985_. A little question mark was by both of their names.

“Whoa…you…have two dads?” Wu asked, unsure.

“I…don’t even have one! What the hell is this!?” she said, voice climbing.

“Calm down,” Nick said.

“No, I…no,” she took the book, slamming it shut. “What the hell was that woman up to that this magic family tree book doesn’t even know who she’s slept with?!”

“I mean, might imply she slept with both of them.” Hank elbowed Wu.

“It was hard enough to believe she slept with one man, let alone enough for there to be a question in who did it.”

“I’m more wondering why he bothered to write them down,” Rosalee said. “I mean…wouldn’t that mean they’re both Grimm?”

“Ha, well, of course they are. Dierdre’s a pure blood psycho, I’m sure she dragged another Grimm back to her cave for the survival of the species!”

“Okay, uh, new subject…We got ourselves a secret compartment,” Monroe called. He pulled out a tiny wrapped bundle. “It's probably just an extra trunk key…” He undid the twine and rolled the bundle out slowly. His eyes widened and his head snapped up. “Nick! You got to see this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying across the room. He stood and came over slowly, holding out his hand.

Nick looked and his own jaw fell open. “Oh, my God, another key,” he gasped, taking the small hunk of metal. Monroe set the bundle down, revealing wo more inside. Nick stared and looked up, not quite believing his eyes. “Three of them…”

“…Nebojsa!” Sloane gasped. “That was who Dierdre contacted in Germany! After she got the key from the royals! I knew I knew that name!”

Nick looked at Rosalee. “Go get the other two keys from upstairs.”

She nodded, rushing up to get them from their hiding place in her work room. Once they had them they started working to stamp them in ink and lay them out on the paper, figuring out who they could make the ones they had create a map.

“Doesn't all fit together,” Trubel frowned.

“No, we're still missing two keys,” Nick sighed. “But maybe we have enough to figure out where it is.”

“Whatever it is,” Sloane added.

“Wait a minute. Look at this,” Monroe said. He’d pulled out an old map of Germany to compare to the keys, figuring that was the safest bet on where it would lead. “These three hills here with the two rivers on either side connecting to the bigger river here, that is an exact match for what the keys are saying. And it's in the Schwarzwald!”

“The Black Forest?” Hank asked.

“Yeah, that’s sort of a big site for Grimm,” Sloane nodded. “Not really sure why, but Dierdre had us go when we were there. Only place she insisted we see…Actually one of our nicer days together…But it’s kind of huge.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I know these maps aren't as accurate as, like, modern-day topographical maps, but this terrain... is a pretty good match for this terrain, which is outside of Wolfach, which is right here,” he pointed to a map also on his tablet, zooming in slightly to show the matching rivers.

“So we can figure out where they buried whatever it is they buried,” Trubel said.

“Exactly. Well, not exactly, unless you have the classic "X marks the spot”,” Wu said.

“But, dude, we got it! And it's right here in the Black Forest,” Monroe said.

“…We have to figure out where it is,” Nick said. “My mother said that these keys were forged by the knights who fought for the seven royal families in the Fourth Crusade. Our ancestors.”

“Your ancestors,” Sloane said. “Mine would not have fought in the crusades, I promise you that. In fact I think Dierdre mentioned this…Seven Grimms who fought for royal families. Not that kind of royal though.”

“No?” Nick asked, surprised.

“No. She said these families fought against those royals and that “power” they had over wesen. But that family fled before they could get whatever it was. The Grimms stayed on though—being on royal retainer as knights beat most other gigs I’m sure. But from what I know about Templars, they were weird and secretive and probably hid it in a weird secretive way. No offense.”

“None taken,” Nick chuckled.

They started scouring the maps, trying to find anything that might be a marker of some kind. After three hours, and the night getting long, Monroe sighed. “Whatever is not obvious is really not obvious, because I am not seeing anything remotely unapparent.”

“I wish I knew what I was looking for,” Wu translated and agreed with. “Is it a letter, a number, a word?”

“And why couldn't they have just done "X" marks the spot? That's what I would have done. Would have done a big "X" marks the spot,” Trubel said tiredly, sipping at her mostly-water-now soda from dinner. Wu hummed in agreement.

“Maybe we do need the other keys,” Rosalee sighed, looking at one of them.

“Maybe they didn't leave a mark,” Hank said.

“Then what's the point of making a map?” Nick asked.

“To drive whoever has the map crazy,” Wu said dryly.

“No, that’s what _my_ ancestors would’ve done. Or I would anyway—seven different maps instead of seven keys. And then like you gotta line all of them up in the light to see where the real coordinates are, in code,” Sloane said.

They looked at her with arched brows. “I knew you were an evil genius…” Monroe muttered. Sloane just smiled rather proudly. “But, look, they did this so they could go back and find whatever they took from the sack of Constantinople. I mean, you don't just make a map and imprint it on the side of seven keys for fun. It's the Middle Ages. This type of metallurgy took a lot of work…”

“Could the pictures seem pretty clear so I don’t think they got worn with age,” Sloane sighed.

Nick sighed and stood, pacing with the first key Aunt Marie gave him in his hand. “Seven knights who were Grimms make a map, because they thought whatever they stole from Constantinople was worth hiding, so it could be found again…”

“There's three rivers that all converge near Wolfach. Maybe that's the "X",” Hank guessed, looking at the map on Monroe’s tablet.

“But rivers can change their course over time. That would be a moving "X”,” Monroe sighed. Hank huffed as well.

Rosalee stood, wracking her brain. “All right, there were seven Grimms, all knights, fighting in the Fourth Crusade. Fighting for what?”

“The power and the glory of God,” Monroe guessed with a shrug.

“Meh,” Sloane muttered.

“So maybe they buried it in a church,” Trubel said. They all looked at her and she shrugged back. “I'm just saying, if you're fighting for God…”

“Check the churches,” Nick nodded, latching on to the idea.

“Well, I have been for the last three hours,” Monroe said. Nick deflated a little.

Wu looked closer at the map. “Some of these symbols aren't churches…I think they're castles.”

“All churches have steeples,” Rosalee said.

“Not those gaudy mega churches,” Sloane pointed out.

She smiled. “All _old_ churches have steeples.”

“That I will take your word on.”

“How many churches do we have near Wolfach?” Hank asked.

“It’s Germany. A lot,” she said dryly.

Monroe leaned over to count. “All right, on the key map we have one, two, three, four, five... this part of the map is missing. So here on this map…” He flipped to the colored map from his book and looked closely. “…Two more churches.”

“Which makes seven churches!” Wu said.

“But they wouldn't have split it up over seven churches,” Hank said.

“Ah, depends on what it is,” Sloane said, not relishing the idea of making seven stops.

“Wait a minute,” Nick said, looking at the map. “All the churches have steeples except for this one.” He pointed to one near a blank spot in the map and close to another church. “This one has a cross…”

“Mm. I don't think that's a cross. It's too short,” Monroe said.

“I just thought it was on top of the steeple. Like an important church or something,” Sloane said, looking closer.

Nick turned the map a little. “…Looks kind of like an "X."”

“And it's right in Wolfach,” Rosalee said, smiling.

“That's why we couldn't see it!” Wu said, laughing a little. “They hid it in plain sight.”

“Holy ground!” Monroe cried out, throwing down his magnifier onto the table with a triumphant raise of his arms. “A sacred space! It makes perfect sense they would bury it in a church!”

“Church was a safe place for the knights,” Rosalee said excitedly, pumped up as well. All of them perked up, the drudgery leaving as adrenaline took over.

“And they had every reason to believe it would be around for hundreds of years,” Monroe laughed.

“So we found it! I mean, maybe. Maybe we found it,” Rosalee said, trying to calm down.

“Maybe we found approximately where it is. We still don't know what it is,” Nick said, also trying to rationalize a little.

“Holy Grail?” Sloane said.

“Don’t even joke…” he muttered back.

“Maybe it is though! We got to find out. We've come this far. We can't stop now. Five out of the seven keys?” Monroe said. “I'm going with you,” he pointed at Nick, surprising Sloane. “Ich spreche Deutsch, man. You don't. You're gonna need me.”

Sloane bristled a little and took a step in. “Entschuldigung? Ich spreche auch Deutsch, erinnerst du dich? If anyone’s going with him, it’s me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Nick said, holding up hands. “No one’s coming with me!”

“Okay, yeah, no, that’s not happening,” she said, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Yeah, are you crazy?”

Nick frowned at both of them but Hank was nodding. “They’re right, Nick. You can't do this alone.”

“Safety in numbers,” Rosalee agreed.

“Can I finish please?” he gritted out. “I don’t even know if I’m going soon, we have time to figure this out.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what if Black Claw knows about the keys and knew they were in the trunk?” Trubel said.

Nick shook his head. “Black Claw doesn't know we have the trunk, and the guys they sent to find it are dead.”

“But the trunk did belong to Josef Nebojsa, whose distant relative was a knighted Crusader. And a Grimm. And since it was seven Grimm knights who buried whatever it is they buried...” Monroe said.

“Black Claw could know about it,” Hank said, scowling at the thought.

“Exactly, so we should go sooner than later.”

“Fine, but I’m going,” Sloane said.

Monroe glared. “Oh c’mon!”

“You c’mon! I’m the Grimm here!”

“You made it clear it wasn’t your ancestors doing this.”

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go! I have more experience sneaking in and out of places, and going into old crypts.”

“…Do we want to know?” Wu asked.

“Probably not, but my point stands! I—”

“I think Monroe and I should go,” Nick said.

Sloane paused and looked at him. Monroe also looked surprised. “…What?” Sloane asked, shocked.

“It makes sense,” he sighed, knowing she was not going to be happy. “One Grimm goes, one Grimm stays.”

“Trubel’s here!” she said, gesturing at her.

“But we don’t know if she’ll get sent somewhere,” he shot back.

“Nick—”

“Sloane, this is how I want to do it,” he said firmly. “Please. Don’t make this harder.”

They stared one another down, Sloane breathing deeply before crossing her arms and looking away. Everyone looked at one another worriedly.

“Um…you guys can't travel under your real names,” Trubel said. Nick looked at her in confusion. “Black Claw knows about you and Monroe. To be safe, you can't go as you.”

Nick frowned but Rosalee stepped up. “I know somebody who could get you fake passports. By tomorrow morning if I pull some strings.”

Nick looked at Monroe who smiled excitedly.

“So when do we go?” he grinned.

“Tomorrow. First flight we can get,” Nick grinned. They all smiled excitedly as well, except for Sloane. He glanced at her and saw her arms still folded and a deep frown on her face. He sighed, having a feeling things were going to get awkward when they got home.

Splitting up, they went to try and get a little rest before the morning. Sloane and Nick pulled into the loft’s garage around the same time and got out. She was still not looking at him or talking and he sighed.

“Hey…Look, I don’t want you to take me saying Monroe and I should go badly. I just—”

“I should be the one to go.”

Nick halted stared up at Sloane. “What?”

“I should go to Germany. Not Monroe. And maybe not you either.”

“Sloane, we decided—”

“You decided,” she snapped, turning to him now. “You said we should keep one Grimm here, and I agree. But it makes more sense for me to go. I can do it alone—I can speak German fluently, I can get into places more easily, and I can probably get in and out faster than with two people.”

“…I see you point, but having back up on the trip would be better for whoever is going.”

“Then I can go with Monroe! We both speak German. Probably an easier cover too, we could say we’re a couple on vacation or our honeymoon—”

“No,” Nick said, flushing at the sudden burst of jealous panic. He knew there was absolutely no way that would lead to anything, Monroe was devoted to Rosalee heart and soul. But even considering it made him tense.

He realized he might’ve snapped when she flinched and glared at him again. “Nick, there is no reason _you_ have to be the one to go!”

“I…It’s my key. I mean, my key helped make the map, so it’s my map.”

“…Don’t use kindergarten logic on me!” she said.

“Sloane, this is the best way.”

“Or, how about neither of us goes!”

Nick was surprised. “What?”

“No one goes. We throw the keys into the ocean and forget about all of it!”

“We can’t do that?” he said, confused by the sudden turn.

“Why not?” she said. “These keys lead to nothing but death. You and I both know that. Whatever it is, it's not worth it! This is a fantasy someone had 800 years ago and it’s probably long gone anyway!”

“…We don’t know that,” Nick sighed. “This might be a waste of time, but I have to go. My aunt gave me one of these keys. She believed in it. It almost cost her, her life—”

“It pretty much did!” Sloane said.

“I owe it to her,” Nick said more firmly.

“You stubborn—” she said, getting worked up.

“Look, I know you're worried,” he said.

She paused before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I am,” she agreed quietly. There was a fear in her she didn’t want to name. The fear of losing someone again.

“But you're probably right. It's probably nothing.”

“And what if I'm wrong? What if what they buried is something evil, something they never wanted found, and for good reason?”

“Well, then they wouldn't have made a map,” he said. “They would have just destroyed it.”

“What if it couldn't be destroyed? There’s a lot of artifacts that can’t just be put in a compactor and forget about!”

“Then they would have just buried it, and hoped people forgot about it,” he said. “If it’s bad, we can find a place to put it where no one will find it, for real. Drop it in the Marianas Trench or something! But as it is, we found the map and there’s a chance now someone else could find it even without it. So investigating and bringing it back is the safer option.”

“…Fine. You’re right. But then let me do it!” she said again.

“No, you shouldn’t be the one to go.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“Because you’re still recovering from the curse!” he said.

Sloane blinked and then narrowed her eyes. “No. I’m not. I’m fine.”

“You spent more than half a year living rough in the woods. You’re reflexes are down.”

“I jumped from one building to another, and you think my reflexes are down?!”

“You nearly got strangled by a by a scarf and a belt and got a black eye from some shoes!”

“And you had a contingency plan for homicidal clothing? Thanks for sharing!”

He groaned and pulled down at his face a little. “Why are we arguing like this? One goes, one stays, we agree on that. So why does it matter?”

“If it doesn’t matter, then I’m the one who should go. I’ve still got a fake passport stashed away; I can leave whenever.”

“You’re not going,” he said firmly.

He glared at her and she glared back for almost a minute before she swaggered back. “Okay…how about we spar for it?”

“Huh?”

She was already taking off her jacket, setting it on a worktable Nick had gotten. He’d hoped to eventually get some Grimm weapons back so he figured he’d need a place to tune them up. He guessed now he had them too so it wasn’t a waste. One of the reasons he’d decided on the loft was that it came with the factory below and in front of it. Not cheap, but it allowed for plenty of room for cars, a work area, and the area where he kept his weights, punching bag, and sparring mat. “We spar for it. If I beat you, I go. You beat me, you go.”

“…Alright,” he said, taking off his own jacket and setting it there. “What constitutes as a win? No knockouts.”

“No…pin or hold the other for ten seconds,” she suggested.

“Sounds good.” They toed off their shoes as well, the concrete floor nearly icy under their socks but neither caring. Sloane pulled her hair back into a low stubby ponytail as they walked to the area with training matts and other gym equipment. They’d sparred together several times in the last month, but usually it was just a friendly match. This time they were both set on winning.

Nick took his stance more like a boxer on one side of the large mat, while Sloane opted for one that he recognized from whatever martial art she practiced. There was no ref so they had to wait for whoever would make the first move. That ended up being Sloane, who closed the distance fast. The mat was about 13 feet square and she crossed half that in a few near silently steps before moving to hit him. He blocked, feeling the power behind the hit and grit his teeth as he moved to strike back with a cross right. She took the hit and he felt a flash of guilt before she brought her knee up into his gut. He oofed and back way, taking a quick breath. She was serious! Well, he could be serious too. When she came close again they started trying to grapple one another. She would get a hold and try and flip him, Judo style, but he would managed to disengage and go back to rabbit punches. She’d ripped his shirt at one point and though there was a flash of apology on her face he just took it off and through it to the side. Sloane quired a brow but then did the same, fighting now in just a black sports bra and her jeans. Nick considered telling her that was cheating but bit his tongue. He tried to pin her a couple of times but she was good at slipping form his grip.

It was maybe ten minutes in, both of them panting and realizing they were pretty evenly matched, when he tried to bear hug her. She actually managed to slip down and backwards through his legs, surprising him. Not as much as when she scissor kicked his legs out from under him and he went down. He rolled over to get up but she was on top of him in a second, pouncing like a cat. She slammed his hands down with hers around his wrists, pushing her weight on to him where she sat on his abdomen, panting and looking down at him with a triumphant smile. “One…two…”

In all honesty, Nick had forgotten their wager for a moment. He’d stared up at Sloane, with that glint in her eyes and that smile and a bead of sweat trailing down her neck, and felt a different kind of adrenaline kick in. Before she could get to five, he surged upwards and kissed her.

Sloane froze, shocked, and he got his hands out of her grasp to wrap around her. He deepened the kiss and Sloane’s eyes fluttered a little before she kissed back. He rolled them over so she was the one on the mat and hovered over her as they kept trying to find more contact between their lips. He kept most of his weight off her, supporting himself on his forearms and knees, but the brief moments skin would touch sent shivers through both of them. When he finally pulled back to take a gasp, he looked down and swallowed when he saw her flushed, panting and her eyes a little glazed over. “…Definitely been ten seconds…” he muttered, his mind clearing.

She blinked and then her eyes widened, blushing more. “I…you…That’s cheating!” she shouted, looking ready to throttle him for real. Embarrassment, disappointment, anger all in her expression.

He couldn’t have that. He leaned down, planting their foreheads together and stared into her eyes when they looked at him in confusion. “Is it cheating if I want to do it again?”

A little gasp escaped her and she stared into his eyes. He was serious. Teasing, but also serious about what he was saying. “…You…what?” she asked intelligently.

“I want to kiss you again…and again…and then again,” he said, smiling. The blush was back and now she just looked embarrassed at his sappy words. “I’ve wanted to for a while…sorry I got a little carried away…”

“…I…you…” She was trying hard to find words but they weren’t coming. Her brain was trying to process this quickly and just running in circles of confusion, happiness and disbelief.

It was rare she was lost for words like this and he tried not to get too worried. He pulled back just slightly but she stayed laying down, looking up at him like she’d been caught. “Do you still…I mean, is what you said before, in the dream, does that still apply?”

She blushed even deeper. “You’re asking if-if I still love you…?” He nodded, holding his breath. “…Y…yes…” she said quietly, closing her eyes as if bracing herself.

He breathed out in relief and leaned down. “Good…cause I love you too.” Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him. He smiled reassuringly. “I realized it was possible I did when I lost you…Then I knew I did when I got you back. I’ve been wondering how to tell you. I’ve been scared you didn’t feel that way anymore…”

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed and he immediately moved back. He was afraid a moment he’d overstepped or frightened her but when they were sitting up she buried her head against his chest. He could feel how hot her face was and even her ears were red. “How…how the hell do I respond to that?” she said in quiet desperation.

He smiled, because she sounded both happy and like she was freaking out. “How do you want to respond?”

“…Part of me wants to run, I’ll be honest. Because I…” she pulled back and looked up at him. He didn’t look concerned because he’d expected that. And he understood it because he’d felt that too. It was another reason he’d hesitated though he didn’t want to admit it, that fear of making something new after losing so much before. “I don’t think I’ve felt so…I don’t even know what this is,” she said, giving up on trying to explain.

Nick understood that too though. It was a little overwhelming. But he wasn’t going to run away. And he didn’t want her to either. “And what does the other part want?”

She hesitated. Because really, did she deserve this? Could she be this happy? Finally though, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him again. He kissed back, wrapping his arms around her. But with the sweat cooling, both of them shivered not just from pleasure. He pulled back and stood, offering his hand down to her. “C’mon…let’s continue this upstairs.”

Sloane blushed but took his hand. “…I was going to win though,” she said.

Nick smiled patiently and pulled her in close after closing the elevator gate. “You want a rematch before tomorrow?”

“…I know I can't keep you from going,” she sighed. “But I also know there's a chance that you won't come back…”

“Sloane…” he said gently, hearing the anxiety in her voice.

She turned and pressed her face into his chest. “That was a scary enough thought an hour ago, now…” she choked out.

The elevator got to the loft but Nick was tilting her face up. “I promise—”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” she warned. “So many have made me promises they never kept, don’t be one of them…”

“ _I promise_ , I will do everything to get back to you. I’m not giving this up either,” he said firmly.

Sloane stared at him a long moment before kissing him again. Pulling back, she lifted the gate and tugged on his hand. “C’mon…”

“Sloane?” he asked.

She looked at him, blushing but determined too as she walked towards his room. “You’re leaving tomorrow…so give me tonight.”

Nick felt his heart clench and smiled as he pulled her in for another kiss before pulling her onto the bed. “I’ll give you every night…”

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thank you EVERYONE for your patience. It's been...a month. The holiday season is usually busy but it was especially nuts this year. Especially with family having a lot of health issues... it's been stressful. Things are finally looking up though and I think we all hope 2021 will be a better year...I'm scared to say it could be worse. I hope everyone had a good December and New Years!
> 
> If you haven't guessed, Tailored for Murder has a lot of influences--The Red Shoes is mentioned but also the Elves and the Shoemaker and the Emperor's New Clothes! The Handwerksburschen is a wesen very briefly seen in one of the books and I thought a wesen that can make "living clothing" would be fun! It ended up being challenging too...I almost went a lot darker with what happened at the Rec center but I just didn't like it. I hope it all made sense! I've been watching a lot of British mystery shows to try and relax so that was probably where a lot of it came from.


End file.
